


The Unwavering Heart of a Winchester

by violue



Series: Dan Westchester, Hello Kitty Enthusiast [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: #pepperonidreaming, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Brief homophobia, DCBB 2015, Depression, Dirty Talk, Infidelity (Not Dean or Castiel), John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mild Somnophilia, Oral Sex, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Top Castiel, Top Dean, graphic description of Castiel/Others in the form of Dirty Talk, incredibly light Dom/sub vibes, mild spanking, unrepentant smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-27 23:12:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 86,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5068549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violue/pseuds/violue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s no point in mincing words. Sam is dead, and without him Dean is a drunken shell of who he used to be. When he finally pulls himself out of a growing pile of whiskey bottles, Dean finds it hard to go back to his life. With one flippant comment from a friend, Dean thinks he might finally have a way to make peace with the loss; Sam was an organ donor, and Dean’s going to find the recipients, talk to them, and see how their lives are better because of his little brother. For the first six stops on his road trip, things go mostly according to plan, and then he meets the man who has Sam’s heart. Dean had hoped he might find peace on this trip… he never expected to find love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I come bearing notes!
> 
> 1.) This fic sucked the life right out of me, I swear to fucking god. I got the idea while I was still working on The Way to a Man's Heart is Through Chlamydia, but I wasn't going to try to write two stories at the same time, so I added it to my "Destiel to do list" and there it sat for months. I finally started writing this in February, and I was nervous. It's an angsty premise. I'm a depressed person, I was worried about spending an extended period of time writing and hanging out in a grieving Dean's headspace. But I also REALLY wanted to write this idea! So I did. And then in March, my mom's cat died. Aradia had been with us 18 years, and she died, and it made it harder to write this, but I kept at it. I'd already started. Then in April MY cat died. Lina was 14 and basically an unofficial therapy pet, and her death had a pretty strong impact on me. It was bad. And here I was still writing this story about loss and feeling sad every time I stepped into the world to write. Then in May my uncle died. I think at that point I started thinking the story was bad luck, honestly. But I finished it, and I was excited. I was so excited, this idea felt special and unique and I was so ready to share it. Then the DCBB summaries posted and I found out I wasn't the only one that came up with a "Sam dies, Cas gets his heart" fic. No, there were three of us, and I almost dropped out altogether. I even sent an e-mail to the DCBB mods about it but ultimately decided to stay in, I'd so been looking forward to the challenge. Then claims started, and until Kris swooped in during round two, no one had a lick of interest in my story. It was killing me. KILLING ME. So, yeah. This story and I had some issues, but I'm still glad I wrote it. 
> 
> 2.) Moving on, I have people to thank. To my enthusiastic betas; Heather, Kris, Jojo, and Dani. THANK YOU for helping me tidy up my story, and thank you for all the cheerleading you offered, I know I needed a **ton** of it.
> 
> 3.) But serious extra thanks to Kris, because I love your art, and you WANTED TO DRAW MY STORY, and you were SO EXCITED ABOUT IT it made ME more excited. You're the best. :3 (HER ART POST IS [HERE](http://kelisab.tumblr.com/post/132009321509/art-master-post-for-the-2015-deancas-big-bang-it))
> 
> 4.) Alright, shutting up.

_You have seven new messages._

_First message, sent yesterday at 8:41pm -_

"Dean. Dean, it's Ruby. I'm at the hospital, I'm in the ER. Some asshole t-boned us because he was fucking _texting_ , and he hit the driver's side... Sam's hurt real bad, Dean. You need to come to Lawrence General as soon as you get this, okay? I gotta go, they're gonna do my stitches."

_Next message, sent yesterday at 9:35pm -_

"Fuck I fucking forgot you're on that camping trip. Shit."

_Next message, sent yesterday at 11:09pm -_

"God, Dean they're still working on him. I can't even go see him, he's in surgery. Fuck that fucking car came out of nowhere. One minute Sam is talking about how he can't wait to get some pasta in him, and then... I should call your dad."

_Next message, sent yesterday at 11:34pm -_

"I can't get ahold of your dad either. You know that fucker's probably in a bar somewhere, God fucking... I'm sorry, you don't need me leaving angry messages about John on your phone, I’m sorry."

_Next message, sent today at 2:17am -_

"The doctor told me I should fucking 'prepare myself' for a bad outcome. I'm scared, Dean. This is my fault, this is my fucking fault, I took so fucking long to get dressed, I know Sam bitches to you about how long it takes me to get ready. God if I wasn't so fucking slow we would have left at another time, and then... there's the doctor. I've gotta go."

_Next message, sent today at 2:34am -_

"Jesus. Dean. He's gone, Sam's gone. There's too much damage to his brain, now he's on life support while they try to get ahold of next of kin. Which is you and your dad. Sam's an organ donor, you know. I guess they're going to try to get you or your dad here first, but I'm not sure. I don't know how any of this works. I can't believe he's just... we were just talking this week about getting a bigger apartment together. Sam wants… wanted... Sam wanted a dog. Fuck."

_Next message, sent today at 4:03am -_

"Dean, please come."

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Dean hurries. He hurries from the diner to his car, leaving his breakfast untouched and unpaid for. He floors it from the diner back to Lawrence, then to Lawrence General, and as he gets out of his car he stops, looking at the ominous building looming in front of him. Why is he in such a hurry?

Sam is brain dead. The messages Ruby left _hours_ ago were pretty clear about that. There’s no reason to hurry, Sam is already gone. Dean’s never going to see Sam again, not really. He’ll see the body that Sam used to inhabit. Dean’s eyes go watery and unfocused, and he stares unseeing at the pavement in the parking lot.

He’d invited Sam on the trip, of course, but Sam wasn’t quite willing to go on another camping trip after coming in contact with poison ivy last year. Dean went with Bobby instead. The two of them had fished, played card games, and at one point even howled at the moon. Bobby hadn’t stuck around for breakfast at the diner, he needed to get back to the auto shop early, but it had been a good weekend. A great weekend, even. Exactly what Dean needed after getting wind of Lisa’s engagement. Sam had said to have a good time, and now that’s going to be the last thing he ever said to Dean, and “I’ll bring you back some poison ivy, bitch” is forever going to be the last thing Dean said to his brother. Not horrible last words, but they’re still last words.

Dean lets out a sob, legs buckling underneath him. He’s dropping to the pavement when two strong hands grip his upper arms, holding him up.

“Easy, easy,” says the owner of the hands. Dean startles, realizing he recognizes the voice. He looks up into his father’s eyes, entire body shaking. John looks so much older than the last time Dean saw him. It’s been… how long? It’s June now, and Dean hasn’t seen him since he dropped by to give Dean a birthday gift. Five months. He’s aged so much for five months.

“Dad,” Dean mutters.

“It’s… it’s done, Dean. He’s gone.” The words sound like they’re being scraped out of John’s throat; Dean wants to throw up.

“So he’s…”

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’m so sorry. I wanted to wait until you were here to say goodbye, but the longer we waited… his body wasn’t all that stable… Sam wanted to be an organ donor, I didn’t want to take that away from him.”

Dean’s steady on his feet now, but he doesn’t tell his father to let go. “It’s okay, Dad.”

It doesn’t really matter that Dean wasn’t there before they harvested Sam’s organs. He was already gone.

 

***

 

Sam wasn’t religious, but they decide to have a church service anyway. Ruby plans the whole thing, constantly making arrangements and finding more of Sam’s friends to invite. Every time Dean sees her she seems in control, put together. Dean doesn’t envy her, though. He can see the writing on the wall. When this funeral is over, when Sam’s things are boxed up for Goodwill, storage, and Dean, when she has nothing left to organize, the dam will burst, and a current of grief will carry her away. Just like Dean.

At Ruby’s behest, Dean comes by the day before the funeral to go through Sam’s things. He takes whatever appeals to him. Sam’s laptop, some of his shirts, photos, the copy of Cat’s Cradle he borrowed from Dean six years ago, Sam’s diploma, and a bunch of random shit. It doesn’t seem like Ruby is really keeping anything; except she’s zipped up in Sam’s favorite hoodie.

Dean pauses in taping up his box full of Sam stuff, getting a good look at the hoodie. There are dark stains all over the left sleeve, just barely visible.

“Jesus, Ruby, is that—”

“Yeah,” Ruby mutters.

“Ruby…”

“I know.” Ruby sighs, dragging a hand through her hair. “Sam told you about my ex, right?”

He did, but Dean thinks Ruby needs to let some stuff out so he shakes his head once.

“Her name was Lilith, and she died about a year before I ever met Sam. Heroin overdose. She… _we_ had a lot of problems. When she died I kept all of her stuff for months, and I stayed in our same apartment. I pretty much fell apart in a big way. It took me a long time to dig out of that hole, and…” Ruby takes in a long, shuddering breath, and Dean can see the illusion of control slip slightly. “I can’t live like that again. So… after the funeral, I’m gonna go.”

Dean just nods. He’s been on autopilot since his dad found him in the parking lot. He knows that wave of grief is coming for him too, but for now… he just nods.

“I loved Sam. I wanted to marry him someday, maybe even birth some giant offspring down the road. But I can’t stay here in the ashes of the life we were _supposed_ to have. So after the service, I’m going to take off.”

Dean nods again.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m bailing because I don’t love him.”

“Hey, I don’t think that,” Dean says, shaking his head.

“I’ll be in touch… a little. I’m trying to talk your dad into a lawsuit.”

“Lawsuit?”

“The driver… the guy that hit us… he’s loaded… and he _ruined our lives._ I feel pretty damn entitled to some compensation.”

“I guess.”

“I have to, Dean. I need to make sure you’re taken care of. You _raised_ Sam, and you’re heading for…”

Dean narrows his eyes. “For what?”

“I want you taken care of in case you… you can’t work for a while.”

Dean frowns, opening his mouth to say he can work just _fine,_ thanks, then stops. It’s a lie. He can feel his shreds of sanity fraying as he stands here in this apartment that will never be filled with Sam’s voice again. Why lie about it to someone in the exact same situation?

 

***

 

The funeral passes in a complete blur. At the end of the day all Dean can remember is Sam’s unnaturally still face, the smell of Sam’s shampoo coming from Ruby’s head while Dean held her, and the feeling of a hand pressing into his suit pocket.

He has no idea how many people came, or if he talked to any of them. The day was a flash of moments. Now Dean is lying in his bed, still in his suit, and the clock on the nightstand is telling him it’s after ten at night. There’s the sound of water running and plates clattering. Someone is in his apartment, doing dishes. That’s brave of them. Dean had a pile of dirty dishes long before his camping trip, and he certainly hasn’t messed with them since he came back.

Dean drifts, listening to the sound of dishes being cleaned. It’s a homey sound. It makes Dean think of his mother, the sound of her cleaning lunch plates while Dean sat at the kitchen table and colored. He wishes she were here, instead of six feet under the ground like Sam. Dean can’t remember which cemetery they went to for Sam’s burial, but he knows the one Mary Winchester rests in was closed to new plots years ago. It’s a damn shame. Sam never really got to meet their mother, and now they’re not even buried together. Dean hopes there’s an afterlife, so Sam and Mary can finally get to know each other.

“Dean?”

Dean looks up, realizing the sound of dishes clattering has stopped, and there’s a man standing next to the bed. It’s his father, who looks remarkably sober for an alcoholic that has just buried one of his sons.

“I need you to eat this, kiddo.”

Dean blinks, and it dawns on him that John is holding out a plate. Dean’s so confused by the fact that his father is here, cleaning and cooking that he accepts the plate without thought. He eats the contents, and then hands it back.

John gives a small nod and walks back out of the room. Dean licks his lips absentmindedly. They taste like butter, and Dean realizes he has no idea what he just ate.

He lies back against his pillows, staring at the ceiling. There are stickers up there. Sam bought a glow-in-the-dark sticker set once, the kind with different sizes of stars, and stuck the stars on Dean’s ceiling one day while Dean was out picking up pizza for movie night. Dean hadn’t noticed the stickers until Sam had gone home, and when he called Sam to ask him what the hell he’d done, Sam had laughed and laughed like he’d pulled off some major prank.

Sam had promised to help take them down whenever Dean moved.

He gets up long enough to turn off the overhead light and kick off his shoes, then gets back into bed. He drifts again, staring at the glowing stars, pretending somehow that they’re Sam, watching over him.

He remembers a bit more from the funeral. The rare sight of Bobby without a greasy cap on, Jo cursing up a storm at some guy trying to take pictures with his cell phone, John saying he’d be crashing at Dean’s for a few days… oh. That’s why he’s in Dean’s apartment. Dean doesn’t even know how Ruby found John, or how he got to the hospital so fast. He doesn’t even know where John _lives._ He should know something like that, a guy should know where his father lives.

Dean’s almost asleep when he remembers the hand he felt in his pocket at the funeral. He reaches into the pocket, surprised by the feeling of cellophane against his fingers. It’s a little Ziploc baggie, and when Dean holds it up toward the stars on his ceiling he can just barely make out the contents.

A lock of long, brown hair, tied with a thick cord. It looks like the string from Sam’s favorite hoodie.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean drinks. The world keeps moving, but Dean’s barely aware of it through the haze of alcohol.

One day he comes out of his room and notices the cat calendar in the kitchen (another example of Sam’s idea of what a prank is) is turned to July. Which means at minimum it’s been two weeks since Dean’s showed up at work. Fuck. He’s in the middle of wondering if it’s worth calling The Roadhouse when the front door opens and John walks in.

Dean’s always somewhat startled to see his father in the apartment. He’s vaguely aware that John must have, at some point, moved in for good; there’s a pile of boxes in the living room and a few trash bags that look to be full of clothes. It’s still confusing for Dean every time he comes out of his room to walk the eleven blocks to the liquor store, and John is on the couch watching Dean’s TV or cleaning something, or when he appears in Dean’s room with food.

John looks at Dean with concern, closing the door to the apartment behind him. “You hungry?”

“No, I… what day is it?”

John frowns. “It’s Thursday.”

“No, I mean… what _date_ is it?” Dean says, gesturing at the calendar.

“July fourteenth.”

Wow, a month has gone by, with Dean not working and eating through his meager savings with trips to the liquor store. His rent was due days ago.

“I gotta… I gotta go talk to Frank,” Dean says, looking around for his jacket.

“Your landlord? I took care of it.”

How did he take care of it? John _never_ has money.

John looks a bit hurt then, and Dean realizes he must have been thinking out loud.

“I talked to Ellen,” John says, “I’ve been doing cleanup and shit at The Roadhouse.”

“Ellen gave you my job?”

“I’m just covering until you’re ready, Dean. It’s okay.”

“ _It’s not_ _—_ ” Dean stops, realizing he’s yelling.

“I just mean that your job is still there, and your rent is covered.”

Dean nods, heading for the door. He mutters a thanks before leaving to replenish his supply of whiskey.

  
  


***

  
  


Some days, Dean can tell John wants to say something about the drinking. But he never does, because they both know John has done the same, for much longer, with two sons he was supposed to be looking after. They both know that Dean spent more time caring for Sam than John did by a wide, wide margin. They both know that John can cover Dean’s rent and job for the next ten years and still not make up for Dean’s childhood. It’s nothing Dean is actively angry about, it’s just a harsh unchangeable truth, like Sam and Mary Winchester being dead.

John still doesn’t really know how to parent. That much is obvious the day after Dean finally runs out of money and John starts leaving him cash on the kitchen counter; money they both know Dean is going to spend on alcohol.

  
  


***

  
  


Dean doesn’t always drink, of course; he’d be dead by now if he did. A body can only take so much. But whether he’s drunk or between binges, his day mostly consists of lying in bed, staring at the plastic stars, and missing Sam.

  
  


***

  
  


At the end of July, John comes home and tells Dean they settled the lawsuit with the currently jailed Dick Roman. He says if Dick’s pathetically small jail sentence is anything to go by, the man has connections and lawyers that would flatten their civil suit. So when they offered John four hundred thousand dollars plus the cost of Sam and Ruby’s medical expenses, John told them yes.

Dean absorbs this information with mild interest. “You tell Ruby?”

“Yeah,” John says, shrugging. “She said it should go to you. Seemed really important to her that you were taken care of.”

“She didn’t want any?”

“No.”

“So I’m like… rich now?”

John holds up a check. “Gotta come with me to the bank, it’s in your name.”

Dean takes the check and stares at it, thoughts sluggishly swirling about in his exhausted mind. Part of him wants to tear it up, because Sam was worth more than four hundred thousand dollars. He doesn’t, though. Tearing up the check won’t make Sam any less dead, and it won’t get Dick Roman a longer jail sentence. Dean can live off of this for a long time if he chooses.

So, Dean goes with John to the bank, deposits the check, and doesn’t stop crying for the next four days.

  
  


***

  
  


John doesn’t ask for any part of the money. He keeps working at Dean’s old job, keeps paying Dean’s bills, and keeps leaving Dean booze money. Dean thinks about setting up a direct deposit for his rent and other bills, so that massive pile of cash in his account can be put to use, but he doesn’t. At some point Dean realized that what John’s doing isn’t necessarily about making up for the past. Taking care of Dean, being useful, it’s how he’s coping with Sam’s death. Dean doesn’t want to mess that up just yet. This is the longest John’s kept a job in years, and for all that Dean’s been drinking, he hasn’t seen John drink or smelled any alcohol on him this entire time.

It’s _almost_ enough to make him feel ashamed of himself.

  
  


***

  
  


In September, John floats the idea of moving to a bigger place. Dean looks at the stars on his ceiling, imagines pulling them off, and thinks about how he could put them up in a new place; but it would never be quite right. The next thing he’s aware of is his father holding him while Dean sucks in huge, panicked, sobbing breaths.

John doesn’t make the suggestion again.

  
  


***

  
  


At the beginning of October, Dean leaves for the liquor store and notices the neighbor across the hall moving out. He thinks maybe it’s a sign. By the end of the week John has his own apartment, and Dean has set his own bills to automatically withdraw from his bank account. John’s still over constantly, making sure Dean eats, and still leaving extra cash. Dean’s not so far gone that he doesn’t realize how fucked up this all is, but he doesn’t much care to do anything to change it.

  
  


***

  
  


In November, Dean has a nightmare about Sam.

Sam is in the hospital, dying and in need of a new liver. Dean is the only match, but his liver is too damaged to help. Sam wastes away, and he dies.

When Dean wakes up, at first he’s relieved. It was just a dream, Sam isn’t dying. A long minute passes and when Dean remembers Sam is already dead, he rolls onto his side and throws up on his floor.

Even though it was just a dream, Dean is so shaken he can’t bring himself to touch any alcohol. After a few days he starts going through withdrawals so bad that John has to take a couple of days off to help him through it.

On the third day, Dean wakes up to John dabbing at his face with a washcloth.

“Hey, Dad,” Dean says, groaning at the pain in his throat.

“Hey, kiddo. You had your fill?”

“Yeah.”

John reaches into his pocket, pulling out a little red disc. It’s an AA chip, with a three in the center. “Me too. Getting my six month chip next month.”

Dean stares at the chip in amazement. “Sammy’d be proud of you.”

He believes it. Sam and John had an incredibly tense and rocky relationship, but John hasn’t gone longer than a month without a drink since Sam was a toddler. Dean’s certain Sam would be proud of this; John sober, with a steady job, looking after Dean.

“I hope so,” John says.

“He wouldn’t be proud of me,” Dean says, frowning.

John shakes his head. “No. But he’d understand.”

Dean nods and closes his eyes, waiting to fall back asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

When Dean opens his eyes next, there’s a young blonde woman standing next to his bed, frowning. She looks startled when they make eye contact, and her expression softens.

“Joanna Beth,” Dean says by way of greeting.

“Deanielle.”

Dean smiles. When they were younger, Dean, Sam, and Jo all had a name they hated to be called. Sam hated when Dean called him Samantha, Jo hated when Sam called her Joanna Beth, and Dean hated when Jo called him Deanielle.

“I wanna tell you something, Jo. Something Sammy and I never told you.” Jo comes closer. “My grandma? On my mom’s side? Her name was Deanna Campbell.”

Jo’s jaw drops. “You’re shitting me.”

“Hand to God, I’m named after my grandmother.”

Jo sighs, shaking her head with a smile. “Can’t believe you guys kept that secret all this time.”

“Well hey, it’s one thing, you jokingly calling me Deanielle, it’s another spilling the beans that I’m actually named after a woman.”

“What about Sam?”

“Pft. Samuel Henry Winchester, named after our two grandfathers.”

“So… Dean Michael, does that mean you have another grandma named Michelle?”

“ _No._ My _dad’s_ middle name is Michael. My other grandma was named Millie. I have a lot of dead family, jeez.”

“I’ve wanted to come see you for months, you know. But John kept saying you needed more time.”

“Well, he wasn’t lying. Did he change his tune, then?”

“No, but I got sick of waiting. I can see why he didn’t want me over, though. It smells fucking terrible in here. Have you not showered since June?”

Dean glares. “I _shower,_ Jo. You’re just catching me at the tail end of a nasty detox, alright?

“You have a hobo beard and your hair hasn’t been this long since high school.”

“So I haven’t been in a salon kind of mood.”

Jo’s eyes soften again. “I know. I know you’re grieving, I know it’s hard.”

Dean’s heart aches at the tremble in Jo’s voice. “I’m sorry, Jo. I haven’t been there for you, or anyone. I know I’m not the only one that lost him, it’s just…”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“I know how much he meant to you. First love and all that.”

Jo smiles. “Yeah. I’m doing okay, Dean. I’ve been so worried about you, and no offense to the guy, but it’s been freaking me out knowing the only person you’ve been interacting with is your _father._ ”

Dean snorts. “You know he’s like… sober?”

“Yeah, crazy.”

“I guess the universe can only handle one constantly drunk Winchester at a time.”

“Yeah, no shit. Okay, Dean. Shower.”

Dean sighs. “Jo, I’m… I can’t.”

“Woah, Dean, woah,” Jo says, holding her hands up. “I’m not saying you have to go back to work, or go party with me, or even go outside. I just want you to take a good, hot shower while I clean your disgusting room.”

“I can clean it myself.”

“But you won’t. Go shower.”

Dean lets out an even louder sigh, and drags himself to the bathroom.

“And don’t come out until you fucking sparkle!” Jo yells after him.

In truth, it’s probably been a good ten days since Dean’s last shower, and it shows, especially when Dean gets a look at his hair in the mirror. It’s long, stringy, and so greasy from all the sweating he’s been doing the past few days. The beard he’s been cultivating is a mess, his skin looks sickly. Jesus fucking Christ, how long has it been since he actually looked at himself in the mirror?

Dean retrieves hair clippers from under his sink. He trims his beard enough so it’s not a mess, but he doesn’t shave it off entirely. Later, maybe. Sometime down the road.

“Are you using a vibrator in there?!”

“Give me a break, Jo!”

“Give yourself a _shower,_ Dean!”

Dean grumbles, stripping out of his clothes. He chances another glance in the mirror. He’s gotten so thin. Sam would be horrified, the health nut. He turns the shower on, cranking the water up as hot as he can stand and gets in. He scrubs and scrubs, wishing he could wash away his grief like he’s washing away all this sweat and grime.

Dean tries to drag the shower out, knowing Jo is out there trying to exorcise the filth from his room. He scrubs every inch of his skin, washes his hair twice, stands there and stares off into space while the conditioner sets. It’s the longest shower he’s had since Sam died. These days his showers consist of a half-hearted rinse before heading off to the liquor store. It feels good, but standing in the shower leads to thinking, and Dean is not a fan of thinking at this point in his life.

When he finally has had enough, Dean gets out of the shower, clean and soaking wet. He towels off and wraps the towel around his waist. He forgot to bring clothes in with him, and he’s not interested in putting on the scummy clothes sitting in a sad, smelly pile on the floor.

His room is empty when he comes out of the bathroom. His bedding has been stripped, all the clothes from the floor and his hamper are gone, and the window is wide open. He checks for something clean to wear, but most of what is in his dresser is shit he never wears for one reason or another. He grabs a pair of boxers that he usually avoids because they’re too tight at the waist, disheartened when he realizes they now fit perfectly. After a long moment of indecision, Dean finds himself opening one of the boxes of Sam’s things for the first time, pulling out a worn, brown flannel. He shrugs it on, breathing in the very faint lingering scent of Sam’s detergent as he buttons it up. The shirt is a little big on him, would be even if he hadn’t just lost weight. He’s ashamed of how comforting he finds wearing this shirt.

When he looks up, Jo is watching him, with a sad little smile on her face.

“I bought that one,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“Birthday gift. I couldn’t figure out what to get him, so I went with clothes, like a grandma.”

“Hey, he liked this shirt, I saw him in it all the time. He liked that it matched his hair or some shit.”

“You look so awful.”

“Well don’t fucking sugarcoat it, Jo!”

“Hey, I’m sorry if this is _news,_ Dean. I guess your dad failed to fill you in while he was supplying you with beer money.”

“Shows what you know. It was whiskey.”

“Well _yeah,_ I could tell that from the smell.”

“So did you burn all my stuff, or what?”

“This place has a laundry room, you know. Bunch of coin operated washers, dryers, a detergent vending machine, a change machine for the money I stole out of your wallet.”

“You stole my money?”

“Hey, I’m not spending my _own_ cash getting your shit clean.”

Dean frowns, sitting on the stripped down mattress. “He’s trying, you know. My dad. He’s not drinking, and he took on my job, and this is the most stable he’s been since I was a kid. That’s no small thing.”

“Yeah, well he’s also been letting you drink yourself to death and failing to encourage you to _shower_.”

“He makes sure I eat...”

Jo looks Dean over, frowning deeply. “Not enough.”

“Lay off, Jo. He’s all I have left.”

Jo sits on the mattress next to Dean, taking his hand. “You know that’s not true, right? He’s not all you have. You’ve got Bobby, and Mom, and me, and even Ash misses you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean… I just meant he’s my last living relative.”

“Well you know what Bobby’d say.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Family don’t end with blood, boy!” Jo barks out in a terrible imitation of Bobby’s voice. She sounds like she has bad stomach cramps.

“Awful impression, Jo. Just awful.”

  
  


***

  
  


Things don’t magically improve after Jo’s visit. Dean still feels like he’s drifting on a cloud of despair, still spends all his time in bed, still doesn’t eat enough. But he does shower more, and does a better job keeping up with his laundry.

Without the haze of alcohol, he gets bored easily, so after a while he finds himself digging out Sam’s laptop. Once it’s plugged in and ready to go, Dean discovers it’s password protected. It takes him all of eight minutes to figure it out, because after many, many tries he realizes ‘H4N5H0TF1R5T’ is written on a post-it note stuck to the bottom of the laptop. There’s plenty of stuff on the laptop; apparently Dean’s little brother was a big fan of pirating. There are folders of movies, TV shows, music, and a few games.

“Sammy, you little rebel,” Dean mutters with a smile.

He spends a lot of time browsing through the files, smiling whenever he comes across a movie he’s already seen and enjoyed. There are tons of pictures, some Dean’s seen before, some he hasn’t, some he’s even part of. Places Sam went with Ruby, a handful with Sam, Ruby, and Jo, and even a few with Sam’s old girlfriend Madison. There is a truly, truly unfortunate moment when Dean finds a folder full of naked photos of Ruby, and while Dean hadn’t planned on deleting any of Sam’s files, that folder has to go. There are still lots of pictures to look through, but after seeing a picture of Ruby spread eagle on Sam’s bed, Dean needs a break and maybe some eye bleach. He opens the folder labeled ‘STAR WARS!!!’ and embarks on a familiar and well loved journey to a galaxy far, far away.

  
  


***

  
  


Dean wears Sam’s shirts a lot. They don’t smell like Sam anymore, but they’re still comforting.

He watches the things Sam had on his hard drive, there’s a lot to work through. He watches movies and shows he’d never normally have watched, even the ones he thinks he’ll hate. He learns that he loves Veronica Mars, and absolutely loathes The Mentalist. For every classic eighties movie Dean is happy to watch, he also makes himself watch one of Sam’s frou-frou foreign films.

He’s in the middle of an absolutely soul-crushing movie about a boy that lives near a concentration camp when a message window pops up with a beep.

**RedRum86:** You know, every time you turn that laptop on, it signs you into Sam’s Skype account.

**SammyBanany:** ruby?

**SammyBanany:** who the fuck picked sam’s internet name

**RedRum86:** Yeah, it’s me. And I picked it. I was drunk. Sam kept it anyway.

**SammyBanany:** well that’s just adorable

**SammyBanany:** sorry about the logging in i didn’t even know i was online

**RedRum86:** Sam used to leech off of your neighbor’s wi-fi while he was hanging out at your place, so the laptop recognizes the signal and connects automatically.

**RedRum86:** You might want to make sure his torrent program is off, he was doing a ton of downloading. The icon is a blue sphere with a white “qb” in the center.

**SammyBanany:** got it thanks ruby

**RedRum86:** Anyway don’t worry, just thought I’d warn you. One of these days you might have gotten a message from someone that thought you were Sam.

**SammyBanany:** i’m really glad that hasn’t happened talk about uncomfortable

**SammyBanany:** how are you doing?

**RedRum86:** Just learned the hard way that I’m not ready to date yet.

**SammyBanany:** ouch

**RedRum86:** It was stupid. I wanted to believe I was okay so I gave it a try.

**SammyBanany:** disaster?

**RedRum86:** Disaster. It’s a co-worker. Things are awkward as fuck now.

**SammyBanany:** hey if you’re not ready you’re not ready. not your fault.

**RedRum86:** Yeah. So how are you?

**SammyBanany:** uh better i think. kind of hit the bottle for a few months. only time i left the apartment was for more whiskey. dad moved in for a while, now he’s in the apartment across the hall. he took over my job, he’s been trying to take care of me he’s been sober this whole time

**RedRum86:** I’ll be damned. Well good on him.

**SammyBanany:** i had a fucked up nightmare a while back and haven’t had a drink since. two dry winchesters

**RedRum86:** Miracle?

**SammyBanany:** if i was the religious kind i’d want to think sammy’s an angel now and watching over dad and me

**RedRum86:** If I was the religious kind, I’d think that too.

**RedRum86:** :)

**RedRum86:** Hey I gotta go, my shift starts in like 25 minutes. If you ever need anything, you have my Skype name. Just maybe make your own account. It’s weird seeing Sam online.

**SammyBanany:** thanks for talking ruby

**RedRum86:** Oh hey, if you find a folder labeled “Miss Ruby Red” you should probably just delete it.

**SammyBanany:** too late

**SammyBanany:** way way too late

**RedRum86:** Haha WHOOPS.

_RedRum86 has logged off._

It takes Dean almost five minutes to figure out how to make Skype not sign in on its own, and he resumes his depressing movie.

He wishes Ruby’s warning had come sooner, Dean wouldn’t be stuck forever knowing what his dead brother’s girlfriend’s genitals look like.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean wakes to someone gently but firmly shaking his shoulder. Waking up sucks.

“Tired, Dad,” he groans.

“I ain’t your daddy, you moron.”

Dean all but falls out of bed. He was definitely not expecting it to be Bobby. “Hey, Bobby.”

Bobby looks the same as ever, right down to the disapproving glare he levels Dean with. “You look like shit, boy.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, coach.”

“Look son, I’m not gonna beat around the bush. You’re coming to work for me.”

“Pass.”

“Not asking. It’s just a few hours a day in the garage, you won’t have to talk to anyone other than me and Rufus, and you’ll make a little money.”

“Don’t need money.”

“Dean.”

Dean knows he can say no. Bobby will huff and puff, but he’ll understand. But it’s only a few hours a day, and it’s just the garage. Dean used to work there on weekends in high school, he liked it.

“Alright, Bobby.”

Bobby offers a rare smile, and it’s kind of weird. “Tomorrow at noon,” he says, patting Dean on the shoulder. Then he’s gone, and the apartment is silent again.

Tomorrow at noon. God. Dean doesn’t even know what day that would be.

  
  


***

  
  


It turns out it’s December third, which Dean supposes explains why his father made a turkey dinner last week. This year has really passed Dean by.

So it’s December third, it’s ten a.m., and Dean is going to leave the house today. He’s nervous. He shouldn’t be, it’s just Bobby and Rufus, but he hasn’t been out in weeks. He feels like he’s going to step outside and find the entire world is different.

He gets up anyway. He showers, brushes his teeth, trims his beard, combs his shaggy hair, and has a bowl of cereal.

As he eats, he keeps eyeballing his cellphone on the kitchen counter. He turned it off after Sam’s funeral and hasn’t touched it since. After ten minutes of staring he finally turns it on. It works. He has twenty-nine voicemails, and thirty-four unread texts. Judging by the dates, no one’s tried to contact him in a couple of months. He’s curious about the content of the messages, but not enough to subject himself to a ton of heartfelt condolence messages. Dean sets the phone back on the counter, grabs his coat and his keys, and leaves.

It’s a forty minute walk to Bobby’s garage. He doesn’t take his car. Even though he’s stopped drinking, he’s not ready for the Impala yet. That car holds too many memories of Sam, the thought of getting in it right now makes him feel sick, and if he’s honest with himself he’s just plain afraid to be in a car after the way Sam died.

The walk ends up taking longer than forty minutes. Dean didn’t think about what his extremely sedentary lifestyle would have done to his stamina, but Dean’s realizing that just because he didn’t pack on a ton of weight doesn’t mean he’s in good shape.

Turner Repairs is actually seventy percent owned by Bobby, but back when they were starting this place there was a bit of an argument. Bobby wanted it to be Singer Repairs, Rufus wanted Turner repairs, and they played a card game to settle who would get to name it. So, Turner Repairs it is. There are a few people Dean doesn’t recognize when he walks in, and he wilts slightly under their attention, but they all quickly go back to what they were doing. Bobby probably threatened them with firings and ass kickings if they bothered Dean. Good ol’ Bobby.

Dean walks over to Bobby’s office, and knocks twice before letting himself in.

“You’re late, boy,” Bobby says, faltering when he looks up from his stack of invoices. “You look exhausted, kid.”

“Yeah, walk took longer than I thought it would, sorry.”

Dean can tell Bobby wants to ask why he didn’t just take the Impala, but he doesn’t because Bobby’s cool like that.

“Well, there a Honda sitting out in the far corner just waiting for some Winchester lovin’.”

“Timetable?”

“None. It’s one of mine.”

Dean frowns. “Bobby…”

“Now kid, you ain’t worked on a car other than that Impala in years, and you’ve been layin’ in bed for months. This ain’t to put you down, it’s practice, and there ain’t nothin’ wrong with getting some practice in.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, okay.”

“If you can get her running again, great. If not, she can find a new home at the salvage yard.”

Dean’s definitely not in the mood for the salvage yard. Broken cars getting gutted for parts, that sure as shit won’t get Dean’s mind off of Sam.

“You can work for as long as you want, but it’s gotta be at least three hours,” Bobby says, looking back at his paperwork.

“Why three hours?”

“Because I said so. Get the hell out of my office and get something done.”

“I can’t tell you what a comforting source of warmth I find you.”

Bobby narrows his eyes. “Yeah, sorry I can’t bring you some hot cocoa and cookies. Maybe if you’re a good boy you’ll get some later.”

Dean snorts and heads out of the office.

  
  


***

  
  


Dean loses himself in the Honda quickly, running diagnostics like he learned as a teen, figuring out what needs to be done to get the car running. The car’s engine is bone dry, the tires are bald, the muffler is on the ground next to the car, the windshield has a mess of cracks and scratches on it, the odometer is inexplicably at zero, the bumper is crushed and hanging on with actual duct tape, the paint is peeling _everywhere,_ and the interior smells like old bananas. After spending over an hour writing down all the problems with the car, Dean goes into Bobby’s office.

Apparently Bobby wasn’t kidding about the hot chocolate and cookies; there’s two hot cocoas from Starbucks, and a few cookies sitting on Bobby’s desk.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Bobby grumbles, pushing a cup towards Dean, “just had a craving is all.”

Dean takes a sip to test the temperature, then a longer drink. It’s good. Shit, it’s really hitting the spot. Bobby pushes the cookies over to Dean as well, and waits until he eats all of them before nodding at Dean’s clipboard.

“So, you map out what needs to be done?”

“I did, but dude you know it’s gonna cost way more to get her in decent condition than you’ll make selling her, right?”

Of course Bobby knows. Bobby knows what’s wrong with every car here, and Dean assumes he probably knows what’s wrong with every junker in the salvage yard too.

“Worrying about that ain’t your job, kid, getting her running is.”

“Alrighty,” Dean says, taking another drink.

“So, where you gonna start?”

Dean doesn’t want to be around all the junked cars, but he supposes he’ll do it anyway. “Gonna go to the salvage yard and see what there is for me to work with.”

Bobby nods. “Well, finish your drink and get to it.”

Dean gulps down the rest, letting out a tiny pleased hum at the warmth flowing through him, and then he’s on his way.

The salvage yard is two blocks away, next to Bobby’s house. Dean’s always found it amusing that the salvage yard isn’t connected to the repair shop, but for some reason it’s a real sore spot between Bobby and Rufus.

He’s grateful for the hot chocolate. He was too in his head earlier to notice, but it’s actually pretty damn cold out. Dean doesn’t actually own a winter coat, but if he’s going to be walking to and from the garage five days a week, he should probably get one. Sam’s is in one of the boxes in his room; there’s always that. It might not be worth all the pity stares he’d probably get, though.

He weaves through the property, looking to see if there are any suitable bumpers. Might as well start with something easy. He thinks he spots something at a far corner, and heads in that direction. He’s almost there when something blue catches his eye, and when he turns his head to look, he’s slammed with a wave of nausea.

It’s a Dodge Charger. It’s _Sam’s_ Dodge Charger. The driver’s side is crushed, the windshield is a sheet of cracked and warped glass, and even from this distance Dean can see all the dried blood on the headrest. _Sam’s_ blood. The world spins and tilts slightly as Dean stares at the car. He’s vaguely aware of the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps and Bobby cursing up a storm.

“Son, I am so sorry. I forgot it was here, and…” Bobby pauses, trying to catch his breath. He probably ran from the garage.

“It’s alright,” Dean mutters. “Mistakes happen. Why… why is it here?”

“I don’t really know. I brought it here, and… and fixing it seemed wrong, and so did scrapping or junking it… so I just left it. Can’t bring myself to let it go.”

“Well… it’s a little morbid, but I won’t judge you for it. I have plenty of Sam’s old stuff myself.”

Bobby just grunts. Dean is suddenly so, so tired.

“Bobby…” he says warily.

“It’s alright, Dean. We’ll try this again tomorrow. The Honda will still be there.”

Dean nods and walks away without another word, not stopping until he gets home, and the first thing he does is pull Sam’s winter coat out of one of the boxes. He puts it on and crawls back into bed, and he stays there for the rest of the day.

  
  


***

  
  


Dean comes in every weekday to work on the Honda. Sam’s car is under a heavy black tarp the next time he goes to the salvage yard, but he still gives it a wide berth.

Working on the car is nice, he supposes. He doesn’t exactly feel pleased or happy like he used to when he did this as a teenager, but at least he feels mildly productive. He takes his time, works slower and more methodically than he used to. Bobby’s not paying until Dean starts work for actual paying customers, but he covers the cost of parts, and it’s not like Dean needs the money at the moment.

After the first week, Bobby starts taking his lunch when Dean arrives at eleven, and has Dean sit in the break room with him. He brings an extra sandwich and a bottle of apple juice every day, and doesn’t let Dean leave until he consumes them both. Between Bobby’s lunches and the dinners John shows up with every evening, Dean is actually taking in a decent amount of calories. Walking to the garage is making his legs stronger, and working on the Honda is getting some strength back in his arms. He is, in theory, doing better, but he doesn’t really talk to anyone. He exchanges small talk with Bobby and his father, nods hello at Rufus, and that’s about it. He doesn’t engage with the other workers, and he doesn’t go anywhere other than the shop.

At least he’s not in bed all day.


	6. Chapter 6

Christmas sneaks up on Dean, of course.

There’s an invitation to spend it with Bobby, Rufus, Ellen, Ash, and Jo, but Dean declines. He tries not to notice the defeat in John’s eyes when Dean insists his father go without him. John leaves to spend the day at Bobby’s with a promise to come back with some leftovers for Dean.

John’s been gone maybe half an hour when Dean hears a knock at the door. He pauses the episode of Sports Night he was watching on Sam’s laptop and looks down at himself. Black track pants and one of Sam’s flannels. Tacky, but good enough to answer the door in.

He doesn’t know who or what he was expecting to see on the other side of the door, but it definitely wasn’t Ruby in a Santa hat. She’s bundled up in Sam’s old hoodie, which seems to have been washed because the blood stain is barely noticeable now. Her eyes seem normal, but her eyeliner is a little messy, like maybe she was crying recently. She’s got a cloth tote bag in one hand, and a frozen pizza in the other.

“Merry Christmas?” she says, sounding uncertain.

Ruby and Dean were never close. In the years she dated Sam they mostly got along, but they weren’t exactly friends. Most of what Dean knows about Ruby came through Sam, and if they had broken up, Dean wouldn’t have missed her. Despite all that, Dean is so, so happy to see her. He pulls her into a hug, trying and failing not to get tears all over her hat while he sobs on to her head. After a long moment Dean pulls away, and steps back to let Ruby inside.

“I can’t believe you own a Santa hat,” Dean says, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

Ruby has a little lopsided grin on her face. “They were selling them at a gas station in Cheyenne.”

“You drove here from Wyoming?”

“No, that’s just where I stopped. I drove here from Montana.”

“Jesus, Ruby.”

Ruby shrugs, setting her bag down on Dean’s coffee table. “I had nowhere to be.” She walks into the kitchen and switches on Dean’s oven. “I was going to bring a six pack but then I remembered you’re living the dry life, so I got a pizza instead.”

Dean looks at the pizza. “Holy shit, they make stuffed crust frozen pizza?”

“It’s a Christmas miracle!”

Dean snorts. “So, what’s in the bag? If it’s Christmas presents, I’m going to feel like a dick, because I definitely have nothing for you.”

Ruby grins, rushing over to her bag. She pulls out a carton of non-alcoholic egg nog, a box of Nilla wafers, another Santa hat, a stack of DVDs, and something wrapped in reindeer patterned paper.

“Christmas movie marathon!” she announces cheerfully. She reaches to put the other Santa hat on Dean’s head, and Dean crouches so she can reach him better.

“What are we watching?”

Ruby picks up the stack of movies. “Let’s see, I got Bad Santa, Polar Express, Love Actually, Die Hard, and The Santa Clause.”

“Wow, that’s quite a variety.”

“Something for any mood!”

  
  


***

  
  


By the time they finish Polar Express, the pizza is all gone. After that they watch The Santa Clause, cuddled together on the couch under a blanket John left behind, drinking eggnog and eating cookies. If Sam were alive, he’d either be laughing at them, or having a heart attack at the sight of them snuggled on the couch like close friends.

After Bad Santa, Ruby hands Dean the wrapped gift.

“But I don’t have anything for you,” Dean says, pouting.

“Getting to spend Christmas like this is enough of a gift,” Ruby says. She grimaces. “Holy _shit_ that was corny.”

“Must be the Christmas movies getting to you.”

“TV really does rot your brain.”

Dean carefully pries open the wrapping paper. He can tell it’s unboxed clothing, and he smiles at Ruby’s impatience for him to open the gift. It’s an extra large grey pullover hoodie, with a great big Hello Kitty face on the front.

“You got me a Hello Kitty hoodie,” he says slowly.

“I sure did! Gonna put it on?”

Dean snorts, and pulls the hoodie on. It’s actually comfortable, it fits, and Dean finds himself grinning as Ruby fixes his Santa hat for him and snaps a photo with her phone.

“Check the pocket,” Ruby says, gesturing with her phone.

Dean puts his hand in the front pocket, feeling a cord and pulling it out. It’s a necklace, black cord with a horned face hanging off of it. A deity, maybe? A bull god? Dean’s never seen anything like it.

“This is pretty cool, what is it?”

Ruby plucks the necklace from Dean’s hands, navigating it around the Santa hat to put it around Dean’s neck. “Sam bought it for you.”

Dean’s heart does a wild little flip in his body. “He did?”

Ruby nods, smiling. “He got it back in March, during our romantic-ish New Orleans spring getaway or whatever that was. It was just some little trinket he saw a street vendor selling, and he liked it a lot, he thought it would suit you.”

“Does it?”

“I mean the Hello Kitty takes something away from the image, but yeah. Sam said he’d save it as a stocking stuffer for Christmas, and I thought I’d hang on to it and mail it to you this month… but…” Ruby shrugs. “When I was at the post office I got it in my head that I wanted to actually come down here and deliver it myself.”

“Well… thanks. I’m glad you did. I had it in my head that I wanted to spend the day alone and pretending it wasn’t Christmas, but this is so much better.”

“Okay, come on,” Ruby says, rolling her eyes, “pick the next movie.”

Dean stands, grabbing Die Hard from the coffee table.

“ _Really?_ ” Ruby says, laughing. “Saving Love Actually for last?”

Dean can feel himself blush ever so slightly. “Don’t tell my dad.”

  
  


***

  
  


Dean startles awake at the sound of his bedroom door opening. Ruby’s next to him, snoring so loudly Dean has no idea how he slept at all. John’s in the doorway, and he inclines his head toward the living room. Dean nods, gently pulling himself out of Ruby’s arms. Not that he needs to. Apparently Ruby sleeps hard.

Once they’re out in the living room with the bedroom door closed, John gives Dean an odd look. “Didn’t know you were seeing anyone…”

“Seeing… gross, Dad. That’s _Ruby_.”

John’s eyebrows raise, and he glances at the closed door. “Oh. Sorry, Santa hat kind of hid her face. So, did she bring you the snazzy new threads?”

“Hey now, Hello Kitty is pretty badass.”

“Uh huh. Just wanted you to know that Ellen loaded me down with leftovers, and they’re in your fridge. And the gang sends their regards, of course.” John gestures to the small pile of gifts on Dean’s table. “Open at your leisure.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“I’m gonna hit the hay,” John says, patting Dean on the shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“You too.”

When Dean gets back in bed, Ruby immediately curls around him. “This is weird, huh.”

“Just stay away from my private places,” Dean says, smirking.

Ruby makes a gagging sound. “Yeah, I’ll try to resist.” She sighs. “The last person I shared a bed with was Sam.”

“You know what? Me too.”

Ruby bursts out laughing. It’s true, though. Dean didn’t need to share a tent on his camping trip, and before that, the last person to share his bed was in fact Sam. A drunk Sam who’d gotten wasted at a party a few blocks away from where Dean lives, walked to Dean’s apartment, used his spare key to get inside, and crawled into bed with Dean. Dean’s actually lucky nothing got stolen that night. Apparently Sam was cognizant enough to walk over and make his way into Dean’s bed without waking him, but not enough to close the front door, which Dean discovered the next morning.

“I miss that stupid giraffe,” Ruby says.

“Yeah,” Dean says, squeezing Ruby tight. “Me too.”

  
  


***

  
  


Ruby’s still sleeping when Dean wakes up, so he pads out to the kitchen to check out his loot. He opens the fridge, and… damn. Even if he had been eating like he used to, there’s no way he could finish all this. There are so many containers. Mashed potatoes, gravy, part of a green bean casserole, half a spiral sliced ham, macaroni and cheese, sweet potatoes, a bag of dinner rolls, and an entire pie that looks to be apple. Good thing Ruby is here, Dean’s going to need help getting through these.

He checks out the pile of gifts next. There’s a new pair of work boots from John, a wallet from Jo, a watch from Ellen, a Led Zeppelin t-shirt from Ash, a squeeze stress-doll from Rufus, and a hand-knitted scarf from Bobby. Dean can never help but smile when he gets a knitted gift from Bobby. It’s just such an unexpected hobby for a cranky old geezer in a dirty trucker cap. The gifts are all nice, but it’s hard to beat a necklace from a dead brother. Dean feels like an ass for not getting anyone anything, especially since he’s sitting on a pile of cash, but he knows everyone would just tell him that’s not what Christmas is about or some shit because they’re all a bunch of sappy dorks.

“Dean. Dean, I’m hungry!” Ruby yells from Dean’s room.

“In a minute!” Dean calls back. “Wait. Get your own damn food, I’m not your butler!”

  
  


***

  
  


Ruby actually stays for a while. They don’t discuss it, but she follows Dean to work, watches things on Sam’s laptop with him, helps him eat his leftovers, and at night they sleep in the same bed, ignoring how weird it probably is. It’s not a big deal, definitely not romantic or sexual, but he _knows_ it’s weird.

On New Year’s Eve, Ruby buys a bag of Hershey’s Kisses, so they can “have a New Year’s kiss”. They spend the night devouring the bag of chocolate, and playing with the foil balls they make from the wrappers.

On New Year’s Day, Dean steals some eggs from John so he can use them to make a weird scramble with the last of the leftovers. They eat in a fairly companionable silence, but Ruby looks sad.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I like it here,” Ruby says softly.

“I’m… sorry?”

“No, it’s just… I like it here.”

Dean frowns. “But you have to go.”

Ruby nods. “Yeah, I fell ass backwards into a job at this consulting firm back in Montana… really good money. It starts in a few days, and I need time to drive back, and… decompress.”

“That’s cool… the job, I mean.”

“Yeah. Maybe Montana will be home now. I don’t know though, we’ll see.”

“Maybe. Well, I’m glad you came.”

“Me too,” Ruby says with a small smile. “I’ll come back at some point and all. When you least expect me.”

“That sounds vaguely threatening.”

Ruby shrugs. “Eat your breakfast.”

  
  


***

  
  


Dean misses Ruby when she leaves. He wears the Hello Kitty hoodie to work every day for two weeks, and is impressed that no one comments about it.

  
  


***

  
  


On Dean’s birthday, a package arrives with a new pullover hoodie. This one is black, with a punk rock Hello Kitty posing on the front. Dean wears that one for the rest of the winter, and it looks even more ridiculous when he pairs it with his leather jacket or Sam’s old winter coat.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Months pass.

Dean finishes the Honda, and becomes a paid employee at Turner Repairs. Monday through Friday, nine in the morning to four in the afternoon. Dean starts taking better care of himself, enough that Bobby stops force feeding him sandwiches for lunch, and John shows up with dinner once or twice a week instead of once a day. Dean makes small talk with Bobby and Rufus, chats somewhat awkwardly with his father over dinner, and exchanges the occasional instant message with Ruby on his new Skype account. Other than that, he doesn’t really talk to anyone. He doesn’t know how to connect with people, he can’t remember what he used to be like with them. Maybe he never knew. Dean never cared if he had a big, varied circle of friends before. He had Sam, he had Bobby, he had the Harvelles, and he had whoever he happened to be dating at the time. That was usually good enough.

In March, John accosts Dean with scissors and hair clippers, saying Dean’s “hobo look” isn’t doing favors for anyone. So Dean’s hair goes back to how it was before Sam died, and he starts shaving regularly, leaving only a fine dusting of stubble to give his face some added character.

He stills sleeps in Sam’s shirts, and he still won’t drive anywhere.

Maybe it’s not much of a life, but it’s more than he had for most of last year.

  
  


***

  
  


It’s the end of April when Dean goes to The Roadhouse for the first time since Sam died. He goes on a Thursday night, when he knows things will be slow. His legs are stronger from walking every day, but it’s still far enough away that it takes thirty minutes for Dean to walk there. Dean never realized how inconveniently placed his apartment was until he started walking everywhere. It’s cool out, so he’s wearing the grey Hello Kitty hoodie. The hoodies have become a bit of a security blanket, like Sam’s shirts, and he only takes off the amulet if he’s showering. He knows he looks like a dork in it, but he doesn’t much care.

He steps in the door and sees Jo look up from the table she’s cleaning. He watches the way her muscles tense, can see that she wants to run over to him but is holding herself back; probably afraid she’ll spook him. Ash however has no such reservations. He comes running out of nowhere, nearly knocking Dean over in some sort of attack hug.

“He’s back!” Ash shouts to no one. “He’s back and he’s into Hello Kitty!”

“I’m not really back, Ash,” Dean mutters, embarrassed.

“But you _are_ into Hello Kitty?”

“It was a Christmas gift. Speaking of, thanks for the Zep shirt, man. I like it so much I haven’t even gotten any engine oil on it.”

“High praise, my man!” Ash says, slapping Dean on the back. “So, what brings you here?”

“Honestly? I just wanted to see if I could.”

“Hey, that’s as good a reason as any. Jo! Two specials, hold the LC!” Ash yells, waving at Jo. Jo nods and smiles before disappearing into the back.

“LC?” Dean says.

“LC. Liquid courage. _Booze_. The special comes with a brew and I heard you’re off the strong stuff.”

“Oh. God, does everyone know about that?”

“Our interest is a sign of love,” Ash says, grinning.

“Yeah, I’m going to choose to see it that way.”

Ash shuffles them over to a booth, grinning big the whole time. It’s a bit infectious, Dean can’t help but smile back.

“So Dean-o,” Ash says, relaxing on his side of the booth, “what have you been up to?”

“Truthfully? A whole lot of nothing. I work, and I watch and rewatch all of the pirated shit on Sam’s laptop. There’s a ton of stuff, though, so that’s nice.”

Ash winks. “I taught him well.”

“Of course it was your influence,” Dean says, rolling his eyes.

“Hey man, Sam had the soul of a dirty thieving internet pirate, I just gave him the tools to maximize his potential!”

“You’re a saint and a half, Ash.” Dean sighs, feeling some melancholy seep back in. “I miss him so much.”

“I know you do, man, and I’m intimately familiar with the feeling. It’s a real bear.”

Ash has never really gone into his past. As far as anyone at The Roadhouse can tell, Ashford Rosen was born six years ago fully grown with a mullet, a hankering for Pabst Blue Ribbon, and money to rent the lone room above The Roadhouse. He never talks about his past, his family, what he does for a living, or just how he knows so much about computers. He’s Ash, the guy that never seems to leave The Roadhouse, but manages to pay his bills every month. So, Ash hinting at some past loss, that’s pretty damn unexpected. Dean gives him a slow nod, unsure if Ash is going to continue.

“I was… twenty-eight when my kid sister died. She was fourteen, and the nicest teenage girl to ever exist, if I do say so myself. Sweet to the point where some people found it annoying, honestly. Becky loved horses, butterfly stickers, and dippy teen romance novels. We had absolutely nothing in common, but I loved her like crazy, and she could always, _always_ make me smile.” Ash sighs, and Dean can feel a hard lump of grief in his throat. “She went a lot like Sam did, I guess. An idiot driver. Except the idiot driver was our mom, and Becks was her unfortunate passenger. There’s a man in Minnesota that’s never going to walk again, because my mom hit his car, and there’s a little girl that’s never going to get a chance to find her one true love like she always dreamed, because her mother picked her up from school drunk, and the passenger seat belt in Ma’s car was busted. I miss that girl every day. My mom still has another eight years to go on her prison sentence, but I wish it were more. I guess once she gets out, living with what she did will have to be punishment enough.”

There’s food on the table, and Dean has no idea when it got there.

“You’re not ever going to get over what you lost, Dean. But I promise you, one day you’ll find a way to live again. You’ll be able to think about Sam without feeling your chest cave in, you’ll be able to laugh and have fun without feeling some kind of misplaced guilt for still being alive, and you’ll be able to go more than a few hours without being buried under a mountain of thoughts about how someone you love is gone. Whenever that time comes, know that it’s what Sam would want for you, because he was your brother and he loved you. That doesn’t mean you’ve gotta go out there and party, it just means… go at your own pace, and don’t feel guilty if you start to move on. It won’t mean you love him any less.”

Ash looks down and smiles at the bacon cheeseburger, fries, and root beer waiting for him. He immediately grabs his burger and takes a bite, munching away happily like he didn’t just share the saddest fucking story Dean’s ever heard.

“S’ bacon swiss!” Ash exclaims, mouth full.

Dean shrugs and takes a bite of his burger.

  
  


***

  
  


They chat for an hour, mostly meaningless banter. It feels good, and Dean’s impressed that Jo and Ellen haven’t swooped in and demanded Dean’s attention, but he’s also feeling like he might be ready to retreat back to his apartment for the night. Ash seems to sense this, because he winds down, giving Dean a small smile.

“You did good. I hope you’ll come back soon, but I… _we_ will understand if you don’t.”

“Thanks, Ash. God, you know some days I’m feeling ready to… do stuff like this, but other days… I mean Sam is _gone._ ”

“Well, mostly,” Ash says, eating his last french fry.

“Mostly?”

“I thought I heard he was an organ donor.”

“Oh. Yeah, he was.”

“So, you know… there’s _parts_ of Sam still out there living. Shit, that’s pretty gross, isn’t it. Sorry.”

“Nah, you’re right. Parts of him are out there, helping people live their lives.”

“His lungs could be in this very room,” Ash says in a spooky voice, wiggling his fingers at Dean.

Dean can’t help but glance around the room at that. He doesn’t see anyone that looks like they had an organ transplant less than a year ago, but what the hell would Dean know about organ transplant patients? Wow. Those parts of Sam could be anywhere. Dean’s never really thought about that at all. Maybe he’s walked past someone with Sam’s liver and not even known it. What a crazy thought.

“Yo! Dean-o, did I lose you?”

Dean snaps out of his train of thought at the sound of Ash’s voice. “Sorry, just thinking about Sam’s organs, I guess. How do I find out where they went without… talking to them? I mean if I just want to know where the organs went.”

“Well now, I’m not an expert, but… you don’t. Not legally. It’s kind of a two way street. One side has to open the lines of communication, and the other side accepts or rejects the request. You can’t just get a list of where the organs went or anything like that.”

Dean deflates slightly. It was a stupid idea. “Oh.”

“Legally.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “And… uh… _illegally_?” he whispers.

Ash leans in closer. “Well _illegally,_ I bet I could find what you’re looking for by the time summer rolls around.”

Well, this conversation has definitely gone to an unexpected place.

“Really?”

“Well, if that’s something you think you’d be interested in. On the house,” Ash says, smirking.

Dean’s starting to guess how Ash makes his money. He nods. “I’m interested.”

“Just as long as you don’t use this information to go all serial killer and start stealing back your brother’s organs.”

Dean stares. “Dude… that’s sick.”

Ash sips his root beer. “There’s a chance I had a fourteen hour horror movie marathon yesterday.”

“Maybe next time you should watch some romcoms or something, shit.”

“ _Anyhoo,_ I’ll do some digging, and shoot you a text when I have some more information.”

Dean pulls his phone out. “Guess I should clear my phone, then. Haven’t really been using it for anything, I just carry it out of habit. There’s all these unheard messages and texts, I haven’t wanted to hear all the condolences and shit.”

“How about you go chat with Jo and Ellen, and I’ll go through all these?” Ash snatches Dean’s phone away.

“Do you need my code?”

Ash grins. “Nope.”

Dean ambles up to the bar, where Ellen and Jo are pretending that they haven’t been watching him all night. “Ladies.”

“Nice hoodie, kid,” Ellen says, looking amused.

Dean flexes a little, smirking. “Just trying to up the coolness level of your humble establishment.”

“You know I have my Hello Kitty gym bag from sixth grade if you’re starting a collection,” Jo says.

“Pretty sure I could pull it off.”

“I wish I could be a trendsetter like you.”

Dean’s sure Jo and Ellen want to ask how he’s holding up, if he wants to talk about his feelings and whatnot, but they keep the conversation light, which Dean appreciates. They talk for over thirty minutes before Ash waves Dean back over, and he walks away after promising not to go another eleven months without coming by.

“You got lots of concerned calls and texts from a bunch of people you’ve already talked to since then, and there was also some from Lisa, Cassie, Jamie… you have a _lot_ of concerned ex-girlfriends, man… Josie, Bela, and _Victor._ Is _Victor_ another ex, Dean?”

Dean rolls his eyes so hard he almost gets a headache. “Victor’s just a friend from high school, cool your jets. The rest of those are my exes though, yeah.”

“Well, they’re all very sorry for your loss, and would love to hear from you if you ever need to talk.”

“And then I never called any of them. God, I suck.”

“Well I’m sure they’re over it,” Ash says, handing Dean his phone back. “Love the Doctor Sexy background, by the way.”

“ _Thanks,_ Ash.”

“No problemo! Besides, how often do you get to sit and listen to someone’s voicemails without getting yelled at?”

Wow. Dean had forgotten just how _odd_ Ash is.

  
  


***

  
  


That night Dean takes longer than usual falling asleep. He can’t stop wondering about all the pieces of Sam still out there. What are Sam’s lungs doing right now? Where are they? How are his kidneys holding up? What else do organ donors even donate? Sam didn’t look like he was _missing_ anything at the funeral from what Dean can remember, but for all he knows they scooped everything out and stuffed Sam full of packing peanuts.

Dean shudders at that thought, and watches old episodes of Friends until he finally falls asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

On May second, Dean wakes up staring at the ceiling, his heart feeling sick. His phone is ringing, and for the first time in nearly a year he actually answers it.

“Hey, Dad.”

“You up to company today, kid?”

Dean shakes his head, then realizes his father can’t see that. “No, really not.”

“Think you’re in any danger of relapse?”

“Dude, _no._ ”

“Hey, I gotta ask, Dean.”

Dean sighs. “I know, I’m sorry. Don’t worry, the thought of drinking still makes me want to puke.”

“Alright, I’ll uh… let the gang know not to come bug you.”

“The _gang_? Was there some big plan to come check up on me?”

“It comes from a place of love.”

“Yeah, remember that when the Cheer Up Brigade focuses all their efforts on you for the day instead of me.”

John groans. “Maybe I’ll go fishing today.”

  
  


***

  
  


The next time Dean wakes, it’s to incessant knocking. And here Dean thought his father had taken care of “the gang” wanting to come make sure he’s not spending Sam’s birthday at the bottom of a whiskey bottle.

Maybe Dean shouldn’t be surprised to find Ruby on the other side of his front door, but he is.

“Hey,” he says, leaning against the door frame.

“Hey.”

Ruby’s holding the same tote bag as last time. “What’s in the bag?”

“Stuff,” she says. She smirks, nodding at the grey Hello Kitty hoodie Dean slept in.

“Not a _word._ ”

“Please. Who am I gonna tell?”

Dean pulls Ruby inside and into a hug.

“Happy Sam Day,” Ruby says, hugging back.

“Happy Sam Day to you too.”

This time, Ruby’s brought a stack of Disney movies, which Dean is oddly excited about. She has A Bug’s Life, Wall-E, Brave, Tangled, The Incredibles, Frozen, and Finding Nemo. She also has groceries and a recipe for bacon macaroni and cheese that she got from one of the secretaries at her job.

“Aww, are you going to cook for me?” Dean says, voice playful.

“Only if you grate the cheese.”

  
  


***

  
  


By eleven-thirty the macaroni and cheese is ready, and the two of them spend the day watching movies and stuffing themselves full of cheese, bacon, and carbohydrates. It’s not a bad way to spend the day.

When they’ve burned through the last of the movies, they end up in Dean’s bed, lying side by side and staring up at Sam’s glow-in-the-dark stars.

“I’m seeing someone,” Ruby says suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“Do you… do you think Sam would be angry?”

Dean turns his head to face Ruby. “Hey, no. _No._ There is no way in hell Sammy would want you alone and pining for him.”

Ruby bursts into tears. “You swear?”

Dean pulls Ruby into a hug, and she lets out a few shuddering sobs. “I swear, Ruby. It’s _Sam._ He’d want you to move on, I know it.”

Ruby nods, wrapping herself around Dean like a sobbing octopus.

Dean gives her a squeeze. “You wanna tell me about them?”

Ruby sniffles. “Her name’s Meg.”

“Ooh, _her,_ ”Dean says, making a little “oof!” sound when Ruby socks him in the gut.

“She’s a nurse in a psych ward.”

“Is that… how you met?”

“Don’t be an ass. She and I go to the same coffee shop. She’s uh… a little rough around the edges.”

“Rougher than you?”

“I will punch you in the dick, I swear to God.”

Dean squeezes his legs together instinctively. “Sorry, sorry.”

“We’ve been dating for a couple of months. She’s been really understanding about all the uh… neuroses that come with having two dead lovers.”

“Ugh, don’t say _lover_.”

“You’re like a child.”

“So, is she cute?”

Ruby pulls back and fishes her phone out of her pocket. She thumbs to a picture of a grinning woman with wavy dark hair and a grin that Dean might be tempted to call “feisty”.

“Oh, she looks like trouble,” Dean says.

“She so is.”

Dean kisses the top of Ruby’s head. “I’m happy for you, Ruby.”

“What about you? I don’t suppose you’re…”

“Nah. Not really interacting with many people. But I’m working, and eating, and I even hung out at The Roadhouse the other day.”

“You party animal.”

“I’ve been… looking into finding the people that got Sammy’s uh… parts.”

“Well that’s fucking _dark_.”

“I thought maybe it would help, seeing the lives he saved.”

“Hmm, I like it. Sounds shady, though. HIPAA and all that.”

“Yeah.”

“I shan’t tell a soul.”

“Do you want me to like… pass the information along if I get anything?”

Ruby shakes her head. “Nah. Unless it’s someone real cool, like someone famous. If you find out Ozzy has Sam’s liver, you drop everything and call me.”

“Promise.”

“Good.”

  
  


***

  
  


Ruby is gone when Dean wakes up, and if it weren’t for the pink Hello Kitty case now on his phone, he’d wonder if he dreamed the whole thing.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean wakes on June fifteenth much like he did on Sam’s birthday, feeling sick. There’s a deep pit of dread in his stomach. He tries to ignore it, tries not to think about how today is the day of the accident, tries not to think about how in about eighteen hours it’ll be a full year since Sam died. He _tries,_ but he fails. Bobby doesn’t sound at all surprised when Dean calls to say he can’t come in.

Even though he’s not going to work, Dean still showers, shaves, and makes himself breakfast. When he’s finished eating, he notices he has a missed call from Ruby, and listens to the voicemail.

“Hey, I’m sure you know what day it is. If not, then I guess I’m a real asshole for reminding you. I wanted to come down, but they wouldn’t let me take that much time off again so soon. I’m at work now, actually. Miserable. When I get out of here, I’m buying my weight in mint chocolate chip ice cream. Ugh, getting a call, gotta go. Don’t spend the day alone, okay? Go see a movie with your dad or some shit, I don’t know. Bye, Dean.”

Dean gives his phone an incredulous look. He’s definitely not going to invite his dad out to a _movie,_ but maybe he’ll stop by The Roadhouse, just so he can tell Ruby he didn’t spend the day alone.

  
  


***

  
  


It takes hours for Dean to actually feel like going out. By the time he leaves, John is getting back from his shift, and the two exchange awkward nods. Dean’s about to keep going, then changes his mind.

“You doing okay with today?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. You?”

“Thought I’d soak in some positive energy at The Roadhouse for a while.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“What about you?”

“Bobby and Rufus invited themselves over for poker, should be here in an hour or so.”

“Think they’ll let you win?”

“Hey now, I can beat them on my own merit.”

Dean nods. “Sure you can. Well, I’ll be back.”

“Have a good time, kid.”

  
  


***

  
  


The walk to The Roadhouse is slow, especially with Dean’s mind constantly going back to Sam. A year. A year without Sam’s laugh, a year without arguing over which diner has the best pie in Lawrence, a year without Sam calling in the middle of the night to ask Dean if he thinks dogs have souls. A year where the world kept moving on, even with Sam gone. Sometimes it baffles Dean, the way the sun can still come out, and life can still happen, when _Sam is gone_. The world should be in mourning with Dean, it should be raining today, but instead it’s sunny and too warm for Dean’s usual leather jacket and Hello Kitty hoodie combo.

The Roadhouse isn’t too active when Dean gets there. The dinner rush is over, but the bar crowd hasn’t started to trickle in yet. He heads up to the bar, taking a seat. Jo is busy getting things ready, and hasn’t noticed him.

“Bar wench!” Dean shouts, slapping a hand down on the bar. Jo shrieks and drops a bowl of snack mix on the floor. “Your finest virgin daiquiri!”

Jo is clearly torn between being happy to see Dean, and punching him for scaring her, because her face is contorted into some sort of weird happy scowl. “Coming right up!”

Dean smiles, content to watch Jo work for the moment. After she cleans up the mess on the floor, Jo makes Dean’s virgin daiquiri in the biggest glass they have, adding chunks of strawberry to the rim and a bright green crazy straw.

“This is fucking huge,” Dean says when Jo passes the drink to him.

“Better get started, then. On the house!”

Dean gives Jo a friendly smile and starts in on his drink.

“So,” Jo says, “what brings you here?”

Dean stops drinking, surprised. He assumed Jo would know what day it is, but he sure as shit isn’t going to be the one to remind her. Technically the anniversary of Sam’s death is tomorrow, anyway.

“Just felt like being around people for a bit, I guess. There’s a first time for everything.”

Jo leans across the bar to kiss Dean on the cheek. “You hungry? Your dad’s gone for the night, but Mom’s on the grill.”

“I think this is going to fill me up plenty, Jo,” Dean says, gesturing at the massive glass.

“You can handle it,” Jo says with a smirk. A customer approaches the bar and Jo moves to take his order.

Dean relaxes, enjoying his drink and watching Jo interact with customers. More people start to come in, and the feeling that the world should be in mourning starts to recede. People _should_ be having a good time. They _should_ be enjoying life. Dean just wishes he could do that as well.

He’s almost done with this drink when his phone starts ringing. He answers without looking to see who it is.

“Hello?”

“Dean-o!”

“Hey, Ash.”

“So, I didn’t know if today was a good day to call, but… I finally finished our little project.”

“Oh… oh wow.”

“You’re still interested, right?”

“Yeah! I am. Yes.”

“Alright, well the info’s here, whenever you feel like swinging by.”

“Okay, thanks Ash.”

“Stay excellent!”

Well, Dean definitely doesn’t have far to go. He catches Jo’s eye and points to the ceiling, heading for the back when she gives him a nod of permission. After a brief wave at Ellen, Dean clomps up the stairs to the second floor. There’s not much up here. A storage room full of shit no one’s messed with in years, Ash’s apartment, and a set of stairs that lead to an alley exit for when The Roadhouse is locked up for the night. He smiles at the “Dr. Badass is IN” sign on Ash’s door, hesitating before he knocks. The last time he came up here, Ash answered the door naked. He sighs, steeling himself for another possible eyeful and gives the door a few hard knocks.

Ash flings open the door, surprised and delighted to see Dean. Dean is surprised and delighted to see Ash is fully dressed.

“Wow, you got here fast,” Ash says.

“I was down at the bar,” Dean says. At Ash’s frown he hastens to add, “virgin daiquiri.”

“Ah, good, good. Well, come on in,” Ash says, stepping aside.

Dean nods and comes in. There’s only one tiny window up here, so the air in the apartment is always stale, but it doesn’t bother Ash. It may not have fresh air, but it does have a kitchenette and a bathroom, and Ash has always said that’s good enough for him. The only light in the room right now is coming from a blacklight and Ash’s computer screens, and Ash fumbles around until he finds the switch for the overhead light, which slowly flickers to life. There’s a stack of folders on top of Ash’s mini-fridge, which he scoops up and hands to Dean.

“Sorry it took so long, your brother’s corneas were a bitch to track down,” Ash says, which is just the weirdest fucking sentence Dean’s ever heard.

He grimaces, looking at the folders. “Uh…”

Ash shrugs. “Corneas go to a ah… a tissue bank, like a sperm bank… and then get distributed and uh… anyway, so here you go. Dossiers on the people walking around with Sam parts.”

Dean frowns. “This is it? Kinda thought there’d be more than seven people…”

“Well, there’s factors at play, you know?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, not really.”

“Organ donation is time sensitive, and the people have to be a match for Sam. There might have been a woman in Lawrence needing a kidney, but she wasn’t a match. Or maybe there was a match for Sam’s pancreas, but they were too far away to receive it in the donor window.”

“I get it… I think.”

“Plus, uh… I mean these seven are the _living_ donation recipients. There were a couple of people that um… I mean I figured you wouldn’t want…”

“No, uh… this is good. Living is good,” Dean says clutching the folders. “So you learned a lot about this donor stuff?”

“Just picking stuff up as I go.”

Dean nods, staring down at the folders in his hands.

“So,” Ash says, “there’s some insanely confidential shit in those. Names, work addresses, photos, medical information, stuff like that…”

“Yeah.”

“So... you know… don’t be leaving that around.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Ash smirks. “Good. I like you, Dean-o, just not enough to go running from the law with you.”

“I’ll do my best to make sure we don’t have to Thelma and Louise our way into the Grand Canyon.”

“Well if you fail, I get to be Louise.”

Dean chuckles. “Deal.”

  
  


***

  
  


Dean walks home quickly, arms wrapped around himself, folders stuffed under his shirt. He knows he’s being a bit ridiculous, but he’s not used to carrying around folders full of illegally obtained information. He hasn’t looked through the folders yet, opting to wait until he gets home in case looking through them causes some kind of meltdown. The walk seems to take forever, but at least Dean’s used to it.

Once he’s home, Dean locks the door and drops the folders on the couch, then flips the light on in his room. It’s a habit he developed once he started working at the garage, coming home and turning on the lights so that Sam’s stars will be nice and bright whenever Dean goes to bed. He dawdles in his room for a while, then makes himself some dinner. He’s not sure why, but he’s nervous about opening the folders.

He’s been home two hours when he finally sits on his couch, staring down at the folders fanned out on the coffee table. Ash even alphabetized them, and the last names of the donation recipients stare back at him. Barnes, Blake, Lafitte, Macleod, Middleton, Novak, and Tran. Seven strangers living healthier lives because of a man they’ll never know. With a deep, shuddering breath, Dean reaches down to pick up the first folder.

  
  


***

  
  


The files Ash prepared are fairly informative, and Dean can’t even imagine how he got hands on some of this. Names, birthdays, medical records, home addresses, work addresses, even their DMV photos. Dean’s not sure why, but he expected the people to look… sicker. But aside from Kevin Tran, who must have been in a rough patch when he got his state ID, none of them look ill. All the other DMV photos are at least a few years old, though. Maybe they look sicker now. Dean doesn’t know much about transplant patients, but he’s heard they get sick a lot.

Their lives are spread out for Dean to peruse, though he does feel guilty about it. The information is interesting, but it’s not enough. Confusing and complex medical histories aside, it doesn’t tell Dean how their _lives_ were before, or how they are now. They’re healthier, but how do they _feel_? All the files make references to post-op counseling sessions, but those details are not part of Ash’s findings. Dean feels ashamed for wishing they were. Maybe it’s sick, but he wants to know that their lives are _better_ because of Sam.

By the time he’s gone through the last folder, Dean’s made a decision, one that he’s hoping will do him more good than harm. He’s going to find them all, and he’s going to see how they’re doing for himself.


	10. Chapter 10

It’s two days later when Dean finally broaches the subject of leaving.

“Come again?” Bobby says, looking up from his sandwich.

“I’m uh… going on a road trip.”

“You don’t _drive,_ Dean.”

“I have a car, don’t I?”

“And how long has it been since you drove it?”

“A year. I didn’t forget how to drive, Bobby.”

“How long you gonna be gone?”

Dean can’t imagine this will take more than a week or so, but he’s thinking of going to Montana when he’s done. He has a standing invitation to visit “Big Sky Country” from Ruby.

“A month?” Dean says uncertainly.

Bobby sets down his sandwich completely. “How the hell are you gonna afford that?”

“Uh… the thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars in hush money sitting in my bank account?”

“Huh. Forgot about that.”

“Not sure how you could forget that, I’m the picture of wealth and class.”

“Right,” Bobby says. He sighs. “Now I’m gonna have to hire some snot-nosed kids to fill in for you.”

“A summer job fetching coffee for you and Rufus will build character.”

“Mhm.” Bobby gives a long, serious look. “I expect souvenirs, boy.”

Dean grins. “I hope you like snow globes.”

  


***

  


“A road trip, huh? Sounds like a fine idea, be good for you to get out of Lawrence for a while.”

Dean nods, taking a sip of his root beer. He and his father are at The Roadhouse, enjoying some nice, all-American burgers and fries. It’s kind of an odd experience. They’ve shared plenty of meals together over the past year, but Dean’s pretty sure they haven’t eaten in a restaurant together since he was fifteen.

“I don’t know if I’ll be gone that long, but I took a month off at the garage,” Dean says.

“Anything you need me to take care of while you’re gone?”

“Not really… I mean it’s not like I have a pet, or plants or anything. Maybe check once in awhile for suspicious smells or burglars.”

John smiles. “I can do that.”

“Hey, I’ll be right back, I gotta go square something with Ash. Don’t touch my food.”

John just grunts in response, and Dean heads for the back, waving at Jo as he goes. He gets up the staircase just as Ash is coming out of his apartment.

“Hey, man! What can I do for you?” Ash is always so damn friendly.

“I just wanted to thank you again. For… you know.”

“It was fun to have a real _challenge_!”

“Uh, if you say so. I’m uh… leaving for a while. On a road trip. I want to see them.” Dean stares at the floor, feeling awkward and worried Ash is going to judge him.

“I hope you’re not going t—”

“I’m not going to kill them and steal their organs, Ash! Jesus.”

“I’m just making sure.”

“You’re a damn _ghoul_ , you know that? Anyway, so obviously no one knows what my actual trip is about, but… I thought I should let you know.”

“Well hey,” Ash says, shrugging, “it’s an interesting idea.”

“Except for the creepy stalker thing, right?”

Ash smirks. “Nobody’s perfect.”

  


***

  


When Dean gets back to his table, his burger is smaller, and all of his fries are gone. He’d be annoyed, but he hasn’t seen such a shit-eating grin on John’s face in a long, long time.

  


***

  


Dean spends the next morning preparing for his trip. It’s June eighteenth, a Thursday. Probably a weird day to start a road trip, but Dean’s already said his goodbyes and taken off from work until July twentieth, might as well get started. He handwashes the Impala, checks the tires, tends to the oil, fills her with gas from his father’s gas can, makes sure she still starts up, and adds an air freshener after discovering the _beyond_ moldy sandwiches he left on the backseat after his camping trip last summer.

He packs Sam’s laptop and a few of Sam’s shirts in with his usual clothes. The lock of Sam’s hair stays tucked under Dean’s pillow in his room, safe in its Ziploc baggie. He gives the perishable groceries from his fridge to John, rather than come home to a fridge full of moldy horrors.

He walks to the copy shop a mile up the road so he can print out all the directions for the road trip he’s plotted out on MapQuest. He has his phone, but he likes the idea of a hard copy. He plans to make a loop, heading through Kansas, Oklahoma, Colorado, Nebraska, Iowa, and back into Kansas.

 

 

He’s pretty much set. All he has to do is actually drive his car. He’s cleaned her up, packed her, made sure everything is working perfectly, but he hasn’t moved his car out of his parking spot in twelve months. She’s been here since Dean promised his father he could handle the drive home from the hospital, and under a tarp since John realized Dean wasn’t driving anywhere. He stands next to the car, looking her over and sighing. He just needs to get behind the wheel and drive. He takes a few deep breaths, opens the door, and sits down, closing the door behind him.

The first thing he does is roll down the window. The car is clean, but that scent of mold is still hanging around, and coupled with the stale air and the scent of the pine freshener, it’s definitely unpleasant. Nothing some time on the highway with the windows open won’t fix. He puts the key in the ignition and starts the car. It’s not the first time he’s started the car today, but there’s intent behind this. Dean’s going to do it. He’s going to drive his damn car.

“You miss me, baby?” Dean mutters as the Impala rumbles to life. He closes his eyes, and the familiar and loved sound of the engine soothes him. For five minutes Dean sits there, letting the car run and making sure he’s really ready. Then with a small sigh, he pulls the Impala out of the parking lot, and out onto the road.

  


***

  


He had intended to head for Topeka straight away, but instead Dean finds himself driving eight miles in the other direction. He pulls into Forest Lawn Cemetery and kills the engine.

It takes him fifteen minutes to find Sam’s grave. He’s only been here the one time, and most of that day is still a big blur for him. Sam’s grave is fairly unremarkable, sitting between Treasured Friend Daniel Elkins, and Beloved Son Jacob Talley.

**In Loving Memory**

**Samuel Henry Winchester**

**Born - May 2nd, 1988**

**Died - June 16th, 2014**

**Carry On, Wayward Son**

Dean kneels in the grass, fingers gentle as they trace over the inscription. Ruby must have picked it, there’s no way John would know Sam had this song for his ringtone.

He looks down at the grass under his knees. It’s hard to imagine that Sam’s body is right here, just a handful of feet below.

“You know me, Sammy,” Dean begins, “I’m not much for religion and afterlife and shit. But if you’re here, I want you to know how sorry I am that I haven’t been by sooner. It took me a long time to feel ready to do this. I’m sure that’s no surprise. Just because I haven’t been here doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about you, Sammy. Not a day… not an _hour_ goes by where I don’t think of you. Twelve months and I still don’t know how I’m supposed to go on in a world that doesn’t have you in it. That’s why I’m going on this morbid road trip, I guess.” Dean sighs. “I’m going to see the lives you changed, and maybe I can feel like you’re still out there. I know you probably wouldn’t approve… breaking the law and all that. Then again, I saw all your pirated movies and shows, Sam. _Very_ illegal.”

Dean reaches out, stroking the lettering around Sam’s name, fingers brushing against the cool smooth stone lying flat in the grass. “I wish I’d brought some flowers, hope you aren’t offended. Maybe next time.” Dean swallows around the lump in his throat. “I’m gonna go, Sammy. Big trip to get to and all that.”

He rises to his feet, blinking through the tears falling from his eyes. “I love you, Sammy, and wherever you are, don’t you ever forget that.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

Dean’s first stop is Topeka, which isn’t really far. In fact, if Dean wasn’t set on making this a loop, he could really just drive home when he’s done here.

It’s just after one in the afternoon when Dean arrives at Blake Auctions. According to Ash’s files, Blake Auctions is owned by widower Daniel Blake, who lost his wife to cystic fibrosis fifteen years ago. His daughter is Sarah Blake. She works at the auction house, and she’s thirty years old. Sarah is a cystic fibrosis patient like her mother, and in her body Sam’s lungs live on. Dean looks at her picture one last time before putting her file under the front seat of his car with the others.

Blake Auctions is housed inside a large, imposing building in between a bank and a law office. There’s a placard on the door that says “Invite Only”, which Dean ignores.

The building is just as imposing inside, with high ceilings, ornate art, and a crowd of people in formal wear milling about. There’s violin music coming from somewhere, and a soft hum of chatter among the guests. Dean can’t believe he’s in here with a bunch of people looking at fancy art in the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday in _Topeka_.

A server passes by, and Dean snags a caviar-topped crostini off the tray he’s carrying, wincing at the salty flavor as soon as he takes a bite. He glances around the room, grinning when he sees a waiter carrying champagne glasses. He grabs one from the tray, then frowns as the smell hits his nose. Right. Not drinking anymore. He stands there, holding the glass anyway, feigning interest in the nearest piece of art. It’s a painting. A _creepy_ painting, with a creepy man, a creepy woman, and three creepy children. The creepy little girl is even holding a creepy doll. Dean shudders. Who would buy this?

“A fine example of American Primitive, wouldn’t you say?”

Dean only barely manages not to scream in surprise when he realizes the person that just spoke is Sarah Blake, and she’s standing right next to him. Her DMV photo didn’t do her justice, she’s even more beautiful in person. With her long dark hair, gorgeous eyes, and elegant features, she definitely would have been Sam’s type.

Dean realizes he should answer her, and shrugs. “Well I’d say it’s more ‘Grant Wood’ than ‘Grandma Moses’. But you knew that, you just wanted to see if I did,” he says, grinning.

Sarah looks sheepish. “Guilty. And clumsy, I apologize. I’m Sarah Blake,” she says, smiling warmly.

Dean smiles back, proud he passed her test. Of course the only reason knew any of that is because of a long and surprisingly interesting art history documentary that was in Sam’s download folder, but the point is he passed.

“I’m D…” Dean pauses. Right, he shouldn’t be saying who he is, should he? “Dan. Westchester.”

“Dan Westchester, hmm? I don’t believe that name is on our guest list for this showing.”

A waiter goes by with an empty tray, and Dean takes the opportunity to discard his still-full champagne glass. “Ah… are you sure about that?”

Sarah quirks an eyebrow.

“Alright,” Dean says, shrugging, “you got me.”

“Next time you want to crash a private auction, you’ve got to look the part, Dan.”

“I didn’t expect it to be so posh. It’s _Topeka_.”

Sarah laughs, and it’s a strong, beautiful laugh. Dean thinks about how Sam’s lungs are helping Sarah to laugh at a volume that is actually attracting attention from the other guests. He smiles.

“There are over a hundred thousand people living in Topeka,” Sarah says, eyes still sparkling with laughter. “Some of them were bound to be of the rich and snooty type.”

“You gonna toss me out?”

“Not if you’ll chat with me so I can look busy. So, what brings you to Blake Auctions?”

“I’m on a road trip, actually.”

“And you picked an auction house as a place of interest?”

“I wanted to try something different,” Dean says, snatching a fruit tart from a passing tray.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, opening yourself to new experiences, adding variety.”

“Variety is the spice of life and all that. Especially when that variety involves hors-d'oeuvres.”

“My father spares no expense when it comes to the catering for these events.”

“That to make up for how _boring_ this all is?”

“You don’t hold back, do you?” Sarah says, sounding amused.

Dean feels himself blushing a little. “I think I left my manners in my other pair of jeans.”

“You’re right, though. It’s terribly boring. After a while all this fancy art and antique furniture starts to look the same. But…” Sarah sighs. “Family business and all that.”

“What would you rather be doing?”

Sarah frowns slightly. “Traveling, dating, trying new things. Making the most of the time I have left.”

“Aren’t you a bit _young_ for that sort of talk?”

“Nah,” Sarah says, shrugging. There’s something odd about a person in formal wear shrugging. “Cystic Fibrosis. Double lung transplant. Got my lungs a year ago, and the average lifespan of someone in my boat is about five years post-transplant.”

Dean’s heart sinks into his stomach. He had no idea.

Sarah sees his expression and nods. “I know. But that’s more years than I would have had without them, and _better_ years, because I have this strong pair of lungs giving me a better quality of life. And I’m doing boring auction work and eating _amazing_ finger food instead of lying in a hospital bed.” Sarah sighs again, long and exhausted. “Since you’re a… drifter, type, I guess I feel okay confessing this… I worry that I’m wasting these lungs by not doing more. But as much as I’d love to go jetset around Europe… germs.”

“Germs?”

“Immunosuppressants are part of my daily routine. They protect me from rejecting the lungs, but boy is it easy to get sick. Hanging around crowds of rich, healthy people, that’s one thing. But being somewhere like an _airplane…_ going to countries where I won’t have access to my doctors… it’s… ill advised.”

“That really sucks.”

“I mean I’m used to it. Been sick a lot in my life. But now…”

“You’re not wasting them,” Dean says. “The lungs. Whether you spend your life working for your dad, or you go on a cruise, or you sit around eating brownies and watching reality TV, you’re not wasting them. You should be doing what makes you happy. The point is to live your life, right? You’re not wasting them by working here, but I think if there’s something else you’d be happier doing, you should do that instead. Maybe you can’t go flying off to Spain or wherever, but I bet there are other things you could be doing that would make you happy.”

“Maybe…” Sarah says slowly.

“So _do_ them. I mean you look rich, you can probably afford to.”

Sarah snorts inelegantly. “Money, that’s certainly one thing I’m not hurting for.”

“So, find your passion, Ms. Blake,” Dean says, cringing when he repeats the words over in his head. _Find your passion, Ms. Blake._ How corny.

Sarah grins though, eyes so full of life. She really is a lovely woman. “Find my passion.”

“As long as your passion isn’t chain smoking. _That_ might be a waste.”

Sarah laughs, and smiles warmly at Dean. “I’m glad you came here today, Dan Westchester. You’ve given me quite a bit to think about.”

Dean smiles back, and it’s genuine. “What are drifters for?”


	12. Chapter 12

Dean doesn’t stay long after his conversation with Sarah. He feels out of place, and an older man that might be Sarah’s father has given him the stink eye several times. After bidding goodbye to Sarah, Dean exits Blake Auctions.

He slides back into his car and sighs, closing his eyes and taking a moment to just relax and sort out his thoughts. Things went well, he thinks. He didn’t exactly have expectations, but he got what he’d hoped for out of the experience. Seeing Sarah _breathe_ with Sam’s lungs… incredible. He was disheartened to learn of her life expectancy, though. Dean hopes she beats the odds, and he hopes one day science invents a pair of bionic lungs to keep her going well into old age. She seemed like such a nice person, and Dean knows Sam would have liked her. Sam would probably be stoked that his lungs are living a high society life.

He takes out his phone, which is still in the pink Hello Kitty case Ruby gave him. It’s almost two. Dean could leave now and be at his next stop in time for an early dinner, which is actually a great plan, since the next person Dean is going to see works in food service. Decision made, Dean starts up the car and heads right out of Topeka.

  
  


***

  
  


There’s a longer stretch of highway between Topeka and Wichita, and Dean really lets himself enjoy the drive. He rolls his window down all the way, pushes the speed limit, and blasts some AC/DC from his dusty tape collection. It feels good. Freeing. His heart is the lightest it’s been since Sam died, even. He should have gotten back behind the wheel much, much sooner.

The drive to Wichita goes by quickly, and before Dean knows it he’s pulling up outside Guidry’s Cajun Cafe, staring at the tacky neon sign boasting oysters, po’ boys, and gumbo. The alligator wearing a boater hat is an… odd touch. The place looks kind of run down on the outside, but there’s a charm about it. It’s the kind of place Dean might stop by anyway, just to see if it’s any good. It’s five when Dean pulls in to park, and there are only a few other vehicles in the lot. Dean can’t decide if that’s a bad indication of the food quality. Maybe this is more of a lunch place.

It’s just as rustic looking on the inside, but Dean decides he finds it charming. There are a few customers seated at tables throughout the room, and Dean grabs a menu from next to the register and has a seat at one of the open spots at the front counter. He’s not browsing the menu long before a shadow falls over him. He looks up and smiles at the kind eyes of the man walking around with Sam’s liver; Benjamin Lafitte, who, judging by his nametag, goes by Benny.

“Welcome to Guidry’s, anything I can get started for you?” Benny’s voice is whiskey smooth, curling around a muddy Louisiana accent.

“Haven’t had a lot of Cajun food in my life,” Dean says, “what do you recommend?”

Benny grins. “Well, this here’s a gumbo shack, so I’m gonna push the gumbo. It’ll fill you up and warm your belly.”

“Well, gumbo it is. And just water to drink.”

Benny nods and rings up Dean’s order. After bringing Dean his water, he’s gone a good fifteen minutes, and in the meantime Dean contents himself with checking out the various tchotchkes on the walls of the restaurant. He’s not really sure what the theme is supposed to be here, but there’s definitely a charm to it. This place is well loved.

“Sorry ‘bout the wait, Chief,” Benny says, coming from the back. He sets Dean’s bowl of gumbo down in front of him, and it smells wonderful. “We’re a bit short staffed today.”

“Not a problem, I got nowhere to be.”

“Still, that’s a long wait for gumbo and a water,” Benny says, plunking down a plate with a slice of pecan pie in front of Dean. “On the house.”

“Well if you insist,” Dean says, grinning. He takes a bite of his gumbo, moaning at the flavors of chicken, andouille sausage, and okra exploding across his taste buds.

“That’s what I like to hear!” Benny says loudly, disappearing into the back again.

Dean takes his time with his gumbo. It’s damn good gumbo, not that Dean’s had much to compare it to. He’s about to start on his pie when he notices Benny idling at the register, tidying things up out of probable boredom. Perfect.

“Got all caught up?” he says, offering a friendly smile.

Benny nods. “Never can tell which is worse; when it’s slow like right now and I got nothin’ to do, or when we’re packed to the rafters and I’m runnin’ about like my ass is on fire. Least when we’re busy, time goes by real fast.”

“Definitely been there, my man. Used to work at this bar and grill a few towns over, and some of those busy nights would run me ragged, but the slow ones got pretty dull.”

“How did you pass the time?”

“My brother got me a book of word puzzles. Crosswords, word finders, logic puzzles, sudoku, that kind of thing. Still boring, but a different kind of boring.”

“Sudoku, huh?”

“Well as much as I’d have rather spent my downtime doing shots and flipping through skin mags, I think my co-workers would have had a problem with that.”

Benny barks out a laugh and holds out his hand. “Benny Lafitte.”

“Dan Westchester,” Dean says, shaking Benny’s hand, “good to meet you.”

Dean wonders if he’ll get used to this whole “giving a fake name” thing, or if he’s going to keep feeling like a class A asshole each time.

“You live around here, or just passing through?”

“Just passing through. Headed to Oklahoma and parts beyond. Kinda celebrating.”

“Oh? What are you celebrating?”

Dean grins, saluting Benny with his forkful of pecan pie. “My sobriety.”

It’s manipulative. Dean knows that, but he wants to get the conversation in a particular direction, and he knows from Benny’s file that he lost his liver to the bottle, and he also knows they wouldn’t have given him the new one if he wasn’t sober.

“Well congratulations, Brother, that ain’t an easy demon to wrestle into submission,” Benny says, radiating approval.

“Voice of experience?”

“Ohhh yeah. Been dry… comin’ on three years now.”

“What was your turning point?”

Benny taps the register, drawing Dean’s attention to the photo of a beautiful bright eyed toddler taped to the side. “My Elizabeth. Lost her momma in childbirth, and I knew it was time for me to make a change if I wanted to keep her.”

Dean’s surprised, because nothing in Benny’s file mentioned a daughter, but not all the information Ash got was up to date, and some of the folders are more detailed than others.

“That’s a _damn_ fine reason to stop drinking if I ever heard one,” Dean says.

“What about you?”

Might as well tell the truth. Some of it. “It was a nightmare, of all things. I’d been hitting the sauce hard last year, then one night I had a dream that my kid brother needed a liver, and I was the only match, and my liver was no good cause of all the drinkin’ I’d been doing.”

“Damn.”

“Went through some _ugly_ withdrawal, and can’t smell alcohol without getting queasy… but I haven’t had a drink since. Don’t care to, either.”

“Well, your body will thank you for it. I was a heavy drinker for a long, long time, and by the time I went into recovery, it was too late.”

“Too late?”

“Cirrhosis. Ugly stuff, kid, ugly stuff. But I got on the transplant list, and got me a shiny new liver last year.”

Dean whistles. “How’s it treating you?”

“Good, real good. Aside from the anti-rejection meds. I’m lucky the owner of this place is a good friend, doesn’t kick my ass out for staying home sick so often. Meds tamper down my immune system and little ones are such magnets for germs.”

“I hear that about kids.”

“It’s a good liver, though. One year in and it’s still functioning strong so far. Survival rates drop as months and years pile on, but I’m hopeful. I’ve got good family and friends looking out for me and my girl, and that’s as important as anything.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Support system is an important part of the transplant process, and _definitely_ an important part of the ‘single dad raising an adorable little hellraiser’ process.”

Dean grins. Sam’s death left such a hole in the world, but knowing that Sam’s decision to be a donor is the reason that little girl still has her dad to take care of her, that feels pretty damn good.

The bell above the door jingles and Benny looks up. “Ah, customer time. Thanks for the chat, Dan, you’re mighty easy to talk to.”

“Thanks for the pie, Benny.”

  
  


***

  
  


After Dean’s in his car, he considers heading out of Wichita, but discards the idea. This is the first day, and he took a whole month off.

In a moment of odd nostalgia for some of the less ideal moments of his childhood, Dean books a room in a cheap motel. It’s unremarkable as far as motels go. Everything in the room is dingy and worn, and Dean’s eighty percent sure that the hole near the door was left by a bullet.

It’s too early for Dean to go to sleep, and the TV in his room is broken, so he takes out Sam’s laptop and watches a few movies. It’s much like a night in his apartment, but when Dean turns out the lights and lies on his back, there are no stars on the ceiling to help him sleep.

It takes Dean a long, long time to fall asleep.

  
  


***

  
  


Dean’s eyes pop open at the sound of his phone buzzing away. He looks at the ceiling and panic flares up in him before he remembers that he’s in a motel room. Sam’s stars are still on his ceiling at home. He shudders as the panic starts to ebb away, and grabs his phone off the end table.

“It’s _early,_ ” he says by way of greeting.

“Oops! Sorry, time difference,” Ruby says.

Dean rolls his eyes. “You’re in Montana. It’s even earlier where you are.”

“Yeah, well my neighbor’s car alarm went off for like twenty minutes before someone stopped it, and now I can’t fall back asleep, and I have to get up in an hour anyway.”

“But why am _I_ being punished?” Dean whines.

“Because if I woke Meg up this early she’d stop putting out.”

“Someone’s whipped.”

“Whatever, bitch,” Ruby snaps.

“Jerk,” Dean mutters.

There’s a brief pause. This could easily send both of them into a cold and awkward silence, but instead they both burst into laughter.

“Sammy and I really rubbed off on you, huh?” Dean says, closing his eyes and smiling.

“Apparently,” Ruby says, a little breathless. “That was _wild._ Uh… anyway. I was wondering how your trip was going. You started it, right?

“Thought you didn’t want any info unless I met someone famous.”

“I don’t! I don’t. This is just a… vague inquiry.”

“Uh huh. Well I’m in city number two, out of seven.”

“Are they uh… nice? Did they seem like good people?”

Dean can hear the unspoken question there. _Are they worthy?_

“So far, yeah. So nice I feel like a total asshole for giving them a fake name.”

“What name did you give?”

“Dan Westchester.”

Ruby laughs. “Wow, _super_ creative.”

“Shut up!”

“I’m uh… glad. That they’re nice.”

“Me too. The second one was really cool. I think in another life I’d want to be friends with him.”

“I’m glad you’re meeting people, flexing those social muscles.”

“No need to flex, I’m charming as fuck.”

“Yeah, _sure._ ”

“Well I did alright so far. Didn’t start crying or yelling or farting uncontrollably.”

Dean hears Ruby start laughing, then the sound of breaking glass.

“You made me drop my coffee mug, you dick!”

“I didn’t _make_ _—_ ”

“Damn it! I’ve gotta go!”

Ruby barks out a few more expletives before the line goes dead, and Dean enjoys a chuckle at her expense.

  
  


***

  
  


He could leave Wichita now that he’s up, but Dean lingers. It’s only three hours to Oklahoma City, and the next person Dean’s going to see works in a bar, so it’s not like he needs to be there anytime soon.

Instead he finds a grocery store and makes a beeline for the magazine section. He finds what he’s looking for underneath the teen magazines covered in pictures of this generation’s heartthrobs (none of which he recognizes). A large book of word finder games, crosswords, and logic puzzles. Four hundred pages, on cheap recycled paper. This is even bigger than the ones Sam used to get for him. He buys two, and then heads back to the hotel for a nap. He wants to stop at Guidry’s before he goes, and they’re not open until noon.

  
  


***

  
  


Benny actually looks happy when he sees Dean walk in, just after the restaurant opens. “Couldn’t stay away, huh Chief?”

“Thought I’d have a po’ boy before I get back on the road,” Dean says.

“Good choice, get some energy for the road. I recommend the fried shrimp po’ boy. Extra carbs, because you look like quite a health nut.”

Dean snorts.

“Besides,” Benny says, “it’s the special today. You get the sandwich, fries, and a soda for a mere six bucks. Can you say no to that?”

Dean smiles, taking out his wallet. “No. No, I can’t.”

  
  


***

  
  


The sandwich is delicious, filling, and after his plate his clear, Dean almost feels ready for another nap.

“You ready for a nice long drive now?” Benny says, smirking.

Dean groans. “Not really, but I might as well move on. Got something for you first.”

Benny’s expression changes to one of cautious delight. “Really, now.”

Dean slaps the book of puzzles and a mechanical pencil onto the counter, smiling at the grin that splits across Benny’s face.

“For your downtime,” Dean says.

“This looks like it’ll keep me busy for a long time.”

“Got myself one too, for the times on my trip when I’m not painting the town red.”

“You lookin’ to cause trouble out there?”

“Oh hell yeah, gonna party, break some hearts—”

“Do some puzzles?” Benny says.

“I’m an outlaw!” Dean insists.

“Oh, you look it. I saw that Hello Kitty phone case yesterday.”

Dean blushes. “It was a _gift._ ”

Benny smiles. “Mhmm.”

“ _Well,_ I think that’s my cue to hit the road!”

“Those dangerous, dusty back roads, yeah?”

“Damn right!”

Benny reaches out, clapping Dean on the shoulder. “Well you’re welcome back here any time, Outlaw Dan. Maybe we can compare our puzzle books sometime, see who’s smarter.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, man. Sounds like a good idea.”

Dean grins as he drives away from Guidry’s Cajun Cafe. Maybe he really will come back sometime. That fried shrimp po’ boy was _damn_ tasty.


	13. Chapter 13

It’s almost five when Dean gets to Oklahoma City. He considers waiting for a busier hour to go in to check for Pamela Barnes, but maybe if he goes in at a slower time like now, she’ll be bored and looking to chat, like Benny was. There are only a few cars parked outside Lemon Wedge, definitely a slow time.

He can’t tell if he’s amused or terrified when he realizes Lemon Wedge is a _karaoke bar._ Wow. He hasn’t been in one of these in years. The bar itself is pretty unremarkable, except… the walls are yellow. _Yellow_. Dean can’t think of a color he’d want to see less while drinking. If he were drinking still. He’s still standing there, mouth hanging open in disgust at the eye melting wall color, when a woman speaks.

“The owner thinks this is an appealing color, and after four years still won’t listen to reason.”

Dean’s heart beats a little faster when he turns, but it’s not Pamela talking to him. Judging by the apron she’s an employee here, though. Plus she’s wearing a nametag that says Ann Marie.

“It’s so…” Dean starts.

“Yellow?”

“I mean… yeah.”

“You get used to it?”

Dean shrugs. “Does this place get very busy?”

“Oh, yeah. Friday night in June? This place will be hoppin’ in a few hours. You thinking about singing?”

Dean is definitely _not_ thinking about singing. “Ah… no.”

“Well, if you change your mind, Pam does sign ups starting at six, and the main event starts at eight!”

“Pam?”

“Yeah, she’s not here yet, but she will be soon. Wavy dark hair, usually wears sunglasses.”

“To combat the yellow?”

Ann Marie chuckles, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Nah, eye surgery. Anyway,” she says, gently touching Dean’s shoulder, “you should stick around. Gets pretty fun later in the evening.”

Dean can tell Ann Marie is flirting with him. The gentle touches, the coy smiles, the suggestion that he stick around. He understands that this tall, leggy blonde is interested in him. But he has no idea how to respond. He’s definitely not interested in sex right now, hasn’t been in a long time. He doesn’t want to hurt this woman’s feelings, but he’s so not into this.

“Woah,” Ann Marie says, “don’t look so terrified. I promise no one here bites.”

“It’s just a little… uh, social anxiety,” Dean says, which is true enough.

“Well, no time like the present to face your fears! Even the worst of singers can have a great time up there.”

“Maybe for tonight I’ll just… scope out the action.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Ann Marie gives Dean another smile before she’s on her way.

Since Pamela isn’t there yet, Dean leaves. He drives around for a while, goes to the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum and sees that it closed twenty minutes before he got there, and eventually ends up at a Holiday Inn. The cheap motel had been interesting for nostalgia, but the bed and shower had both been dreadful, and Dean wants something a little nicer tonight. It’s not like he can’t afford it.

He goes to the hotel gift shop for toothpaste, and ends up leaving with a snowglobe for Bobby. He has a good shower, trims his facial hair to look more “rugged” than “hobo”, and gets dressed, pulling his black Hello Kitty hoodie on over his t-shirt even though it’s a pretty warm night. He stops off at Burger King to satisfy a craving for a quick bacon cheeseburger, and by the time he gets back to Lemon Wedge it’s almost eight, and the parking lot is nearly full.

It’s mostly college aged kids inside, but there are also older people, including a gay couple who look so much like Bobby and Rufus Dean has to stifle a chuckle. Most of the tables are taken, and Dean ends up at one near the front next to a gaggle of sorority girls. A few of them stare at Dean, whispering and giggling at each other. He’s going to go out on a limb and assume it has something to do with the punk rock Hello Kitty striking a pose on his torso. Maybe he should have worn his leather jacket instead.

“Can I get you anything?”

Dean turns, offering a small smile when he sees Ann Marie grinning at him.

“Virgin daiquiri? Love me a virgin daiquiri,” Dean says. He can see a curious lift to Ann Marie’s eyebrows at the request for a non-alcoholic drink, but she says nothing.

By the time Dean has his drink in hand, a woman is making her way on stage. She’s wearing dark sunglasses, a black tank top, and jeans so tight they might be painted on. This is Pamela Barnes, age thirty-seven, and she has Sam’s corneas.

“Alright, boys and girls, are you ready to have a good time?” Pamela bellows into the microphone. The bar patrons scream and cheer; apparently they _are_ ready to have a good time. “Alright! First up we have Don and Maggie Stark, here to dazzle us with a duet of Witchy Woman!”

The crowd cheers, and an attractive couple take the stage as the song starts.

As it turns out Pamela is quite a charismatic host, great at getting the crowd fired up, good at cracking jokes and getting banter going. Before Dean knows it an hour and a half has passed, and Pamela is announcing a thirty minute intermission and reminding everyone that domestic beers are half price until eleven.

Dean’s in the middle of snapping a few photos of the place for posterity when he realizes Pamela is standing next to his table. He fumbles his phone into his pocket, even though he knows she’s already seen it and the pink Hello Kitty case.

“Cute phone case,” Pamela says, smirking.

“Uh… it was a gift.”

“And your hoodie?”

“A gift from the same person. I’m sentimental.”

“You got a confused old grandma that thinks you’re a twelve year old girl?”

Dean’s grandparents are all dead, actually, but he doesn’t want to be a downer. “Nah, just a friend with a cracked sense of humor.”

“Don’t worry,” Pamela says, sitting next to Dean. “I think you’re totally pulling this look off. So what’s your name?”

“I’m ah… Dan. Westchester.”

“You _single,_ Dan Westchester?”

Wow, she’s blunt.

“Uh, yeah.”

Pamela pulls her sunglasses off, looking at him wryly. “Okay this is so fucking middle school, but God damn Ann Marie thinks you’re _so_ cute, and wants to know if you’re interested in her or want to take her to the big dance or some shit.”

“And… she sent you to find out?”

“Ann Marie’s got some rejection issues.”

Dean frowns. “Well, she seems nice and all, but honestly I’m just in town for a few days, and I’m not really… dating.”

“An attractive unattached drifter, huh? Well, I’ve seen the way she’s been eyeing you, pretty sure she’d be down with a _fling._ ”

Dean knows he’s blushing now. “Not really up for that either. It’s a uh… I’m kind of in a bad patch, grieving and all that.”

“Ah, understood,” Pamela says, smiling in sympathy. She turns toward the bar and yells “HE’S GAY, ANN MARIE!”

Dean slumps in his chair, mortified. “I’m not…”

“Oh, this is just easier, trust me.”

“Did you have to _yell_ it?”

“You got a problem with gays, Dan?” Pamela says, eyebrows raised.

“Of course not!”

“You planning on picking up some other girl in this bar?”

“Well, no.”

“Then who cares if people in here think you’re gay?”

“Alright, alright, point taken.”

Pamela grins and Dean startles as they make eye contact. She has an odd zig zaggy line running through her irises.

“Ah,” Pamela says, “saw my stitches.”

“Stitches in your _eye_?” Dean’s horrified. He didn’t really think about the fact that eye surgery might involve stitches. How fucking freaky.

“Got a cornea transplant last year, still have the stitches in.”

“Do they hurt?”

“Nah. Supposed to get them out next month though, that might feel kind of weird. But… I’ve felt worse.”

“You’ve got me curious,” Dean says.

“So last year I was going through a rotten breakup. He cheated.”

“Sounds like a dick.”

“Yep, a dick and a half. Twelve years together. I have his name _tattooed on my back_.”

Dean grins. “Tramp stamp?”

Pamela whacks Dean over the back of the head. “I was young and impulsive! Stop laughing!” she barks when Dean starts snickering. “No laughing or you won’t get your story, Mr. Hello Kitty.”

Dean schools his face into something neutral. “Continue.”

“Okay anyway, I was all pissed and broken hearted, and stress cleaning the apartment I’d just kicked him out of, and I wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention to what I was doing… and I sprayed oven cleaner in my eyes instead of the oven.”

Dean recoils. “Shit!”

“Some say a broken heart is the worst pain of all. Those people haven’t received chemical burns to their eyes.”

“That’s _horrifying._ ”

“It sure as shit was. Lots of hospital visits came after that, and now I’m nearsighted from the transplant. But hey at least I can see!”

“That’s a helluva story.”

“Yeah, the moral of the story is to watch what you’re fucking doing when you’re handling corrosive chemicals, oh and also to sign up to be an organ donor. They change lives.”

Dean’s actually _not_ an organ donor, but he knows he’s going to rectify that sometime soon.

He heads back to his hotel at ten, ready to watch movies in a nice big bed. He’s decided to stay another day, for some reason he actually wants to sign up for karaoke now. At least if it goes badly he can flee the city.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Dean’s sitting in a Taco Bell eating a pile of tacos when his phone rings. He glances at the display and finishes chewing his bite before answering.

“Hey, dad.”

“Hey, kid. Just wanted to know if your trip is off to a good start.”

“So far, so good. Right now I’m at a Taco Bell in Oklahoma City.”

“Now come on, Dean,” John says, sounding disappointed.

“What?”

“You’re on a roadtrip. You have a boatload of money in your account. Eat at some local places!”

“Hey now, I ate at a charming and rickety gumbo shack in Wichita just yesterday.”

“That’s more like it.”

“Had some great pie there. So, uh… anything going on with you?”

“Uh… actually…” John sounds nervous, and embarrassed, which is new. “Got a uh… a date tonight.”

“You’re _kidding_! Anyone I know?”

“Yeah, goin’ out to dinner with Ellen.”

Dean nearly chokes on his taco. “Are you serious?”

John bursts into laughter, the dick. “Yeah right, Bobby’d skin me alive. You know he’s got a big ‘secret’ crush on her. Nah, this woman’s name is Kate. Met her at The Roadhouse last week… she’s a nurse at Lawrence General.”

Wow. This is big. Dean can count the number of dates his father has been on in the past decades with one hand. “Wait, so like a _date-_ date?”

“Yeah.”

“When’s the last time you even—”

“‘Bout six years ago.”

“Wow, does that mean it’s been six years since… you know what? Don’t answer that, I don’t think there’s any answer you can give that won’t traumatize me.”

John chuckles. “Good call. Anyway, it’s not a big thing. Just a movie, then dinner at The Roadhouse.”

“The _Roadhouse,_ Dad? You work there. Take her somewhere else.”

“But I know the food there is good!”

“Dude. No. Do you want Jo hovering around your table trying to eavesdrop? Do you want Ellen moseying over to ask Kate her _intentions_? Do you want Ash to come by and ask if you need _condoms_?”

Every single one of those things happened to Dean the one and only time he brought a first date to The Roadhouse, and it was profoundly humiliating. There was no second date, and since then Dean has made sure not to bring a girl by unless things are a little more serious and he can count on her not getting scared away by his inappropriate surrogate family.

“That’s a _very_ good point, son. I’m glad I called you.”

“You’re lucky you have me,” Dean says, taking a sip of his Sangrita Blast.

John goes quiet for a long moment. “I am. I _am_ lucky to have you, kid.”

Before Dean can start babbling in discomfort, John continues.

“Anyway, I gotta get going. Take care, and remember what I said… eat local!”

“I will. Have a good date, Dad.”

Dean stares incredulously at his phone as the call ends. His father is so _different_ these days. Holding down a steady job, cooking meals, making jokes, saying sentimental things about Dean, going on _dates_. For most of Dean’s life, John has been the man that wasn’t home when Dean got back from school, unless he was passed out drunk. John was someone who communicated in as few syllables as possible, and was constantly surrounded by a cloud of whiskey vapor.

Dean is of course happy and amused with the changes in his father, but there’s a bitter, ugly part of him that just keeps feeling angry that Sam never got a chance to see John like this. Dean wishes John had made this effort when Sam was still alive to see it. Sam was worth it.

  
  


***

  
  


Apparently Lemon Wedge sometimes has theme nights, because when Dean arrives to sign up for a song, there’s a flyer proclaiming it to be Eighties Night. Not really an issue for Dean, since most of his favorite songs are from that era. He is disappointed to see how many songs are already taken, though.

“Eye of the Tiger is a popular song, you’ve gotta get in right when I open sign-ups.”

Dean had considered coming in right when sign-ups were supposed to start, but he thought that looking too eager would be bad. He has no idea why he cared, especially since he’s in the Hello Kitty hoodie again. The bar has central air conditioning, so it’s not too warm, but he’s still a guy in a Hello Kitty hoodie.

“Renegade?”

“Close, but not the eighties.”

“Fight the Good Fight?”

“Taken.”

“Livin’ On a Prayer?!”

“Taken.”

“Damn these people and their awesome taste,” Dean grumbles.

“How about Love Shack?” Pamela suggests, smirking.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Sister Christian?”

“Ooh, that’s a good one, haven’t heard that in ages! It’s all yours. Alright! So Dan Westchester, singing Sister Christian at ten thirty. Make sure you’re actually here when we call your name. The karaoke gods wait for _no_ man.”

Dean does a little fist pump and smiles. “Well I’ll be back later. I promised my dad I’d try some local restaurants while I’m here.”

“Well save some room. We make _killer_ mozzarella sticks.”

Dean groans. “Now _that’s_ what I like to hear.”

  
  


***

  
  


Dean ends up eating at a place called The Cow Calf-Hay, which has some damn tasty burgers and onion rings. He considers getting a dessert, but Pamela _did_ suggest leaving room for mozzarella sticks…

  
  


***

  
  


When Dean gets back to Lemon Wedge it’s after nine, and some poor bastard is up on stage absolutely _butchering_ Tainted Love. It’s a good crowd though, and everyone cheers the guy on through his ear-splitting rendition of the chorus. It makes Dean less nervous about singing, this is clearly a friendly crowd.

There are no empty tables, so Dean grabs a stool at the bar and orders a Roy Rogers. Pamela has her sunglasses off today, and her eyes are alive with excitement as she comes up onstage at the end of the song, patting the excited singer on the back and telling him to take a bow as the crowd cheers.

“Give it up for Andy!”

Andy hops off the stage, joining his group and grinning as they whoop and pat him on the back.

“Alright, we’re taking a quick break, but when we come back, Madison is going to blow our minds when she sings Duran Duran’s Hungry Like the Wolf. So stick around!” Pamela comes off the stage, making a beeline for the bar. The bartender passes her a shot of something clear, and Pamela tosses it back, letting out a whoop of excitement before turning to grin at Dean.

“Eighties night gets me fired up!”

“I can see that!”

“So, Mr. Unattached Drifter, you excited for your Lemon Wedge debut?”

“Yeah! No. But I got it in my head that I wanted to do it, so I’m gonna do it.”

“You sing often?”

“Not in front of people I don’t know. But hey, I’m not from around here. If they don’t like it…”

“You never have to see them again. Ha! Well, what if they _do_ like it?”

“Then I leave them wanting more?”

Pamela snickers. “That’s the spirit!”

  
  


***

  
  


Before Dean knows it, it’s his turn. Pamela flashes him an encouraging grin from the stage before she speaks. “We’ve got a first time Lemon Wedger up next. He’s young! He’s hot! He’s wearing a Hello Kitty hoodie! Let’s give a big Lemon Wedge welcome to Dan Westchester!”

The crowd cheers, and Dean makes his way to the stage. He passes Ann Marie, who gives him the most enthusiastic thumbs up he’s ever seen.

His heart beats a little fast, and even though the smell of alcohol is making him a bit nauseous, it feels good. After months and months of drifting through life, feeling things other than profound grief and loneliness is kind of amazing. He takes a deep breath as the music begins and the lyrics start to come up on the screen. He lets the breath out, and he sings.

_Sister Christian_

_Oh, the time has come_

_And you know that you're the only one_

_To say, okay_

Dean mostly stares at the lyrics on the screen, but as the verse bleeds into the chorus, he chances a few glances at the crowd. They still look friendly, and one woman surrounded by empty martini glasses is even singing along.

When the second verse starts, Dean’s feeling a lot more comfortable. He lets himself relax into the song, lets the timidness fade out of his voice, starts to sing like he really means it.

_Babe, you know_

_You're growing up so fast_

_And mama's worrying_

_That you won't last_

_To say, let's play_

By the second chorus, the crowd is whooping and cheering, and Dean feels just about on top of the world. Pamela bounds onto the stage during the guitar interlude, wordlessly convincing Dean to join her in playing some air guitar.

The third chorus starts, and Dean sings with his whole heart, throwing himself into it, then gentling his voice for the final lines.

_Sister Christian_

_Oh, the time has come_

_And you know that you're the only one_

_To say, okay_

_But you're motoring_

_Yeaaaaah, motoring_

Dean draws out the last few notes, letting his voice climb, putting all he has into it. The song ends then, and Dean looks out to the cheering and applauding crowd, offering a thumbs up before making his way off the stage.

Everyone has enthusiastic words and gestures for him as he makes his way back to the bar, and then Pamela is announcing the next singer, and their attention is thankfully turned back toward the stage. The opening notes of Paula Abdul’s Straight Up start playing, and Dean grins.

“You were outstanding!” Pamela exclaims, walking up to the bar. “Gadreel! A shot of our finest celebratory wares for Dan here!”

The man tending bar smiles. “Ah, the sort of thing we save for our best singers, yes?”

Pamela grins and nods.

“Oh thanks,” Dean says, “but I don’t…” Dean trails off, watching as Gadreel takes out a canister of whipped cream and fills a shot glass with it. He puts a maraschino cherry on top, then slides the shot glass over to Dean.

“Hope it’s not too strong,” Gadreel says with a wink.

Dean chuckles, plucking the cherry off and downing the shot in one go. He eats the cherry and slams the shot glass down, letting out a “WOO!” while Pamela laughs and Gadreel passes her a shot of whipped cream.

“You’ve got pipes, kid. I even saw people recording you with their phone,” Pamela says.

“Maybe they just really like my hoodie.”

Pamela rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling wide as she heads back up to the stage.

  
  


***

  
  


Dean stays for another six songs before he goes back to the hotel. He changes into a pair of sweats and one of Sam’s old flannels before he gets into bed and calls Ruby. It rings four times before she picks up.

“Fucking _thank you_ ,” she says by way of greeting.

“You’re welcome?”

“Meg dragged me to some medical benefit thing, because misery loves company, and we’ve been here for _hours_ and it’s still going. It’s _so_ boring.”

“Ha! Fancy type party?”

“I’m in a cocktail dress.”

“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a cocktail dress.”

“That’s because I don’t _own_ a cocktail dress. I had to borrow one for this stupid shindig. You know who’s not fun to spend an evening with? Rich, old doctors and their haughty spouses. And _Meg,_ when she’s in Professional and Schmoozy Mode. She warned me she’d be different, but it’s like she’s a pod person.”

“So what you’re saying is that you’re having fun?”

“The food isn’t even good. Ugh. So, what’s on your mind?”

“It’s dumb.”

“Yeah, probably. Go on.”

“I did something fun tonight, and I wanted to tell someone about it, I guess.”

“And you picked me.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Well, good. I can’t tell you how relieved I was to hear my phone ringing. I said it was an important client and they were all _very_ understanding, because business is the most important thing in the _world._ God, I can’t wait to get the hell out of here. Okay. Tell me your thing.”

It seems a little less exciting now. “I went to a karaoke bar.”

“Yeah? Did you sing?”

“I did.”

“Shit, really? What song? How did it go?”

“I sang Sister Christian, and honestly it felt fucking awesome. The people at ah... Lemon Wedge were very enthusiastic, and according to one of the workers, a few people even recorded me with their phones.”

“Well I’ll be damned. You know, Sam always said you were a great singer, but I haven’t had the pleasure…” Ruby trails off, clearly waiting for Dean to offer to sing.

“ _Pass_.”

“Boo, you’re no fun.”

“I know,” Dean says, smiling, “but I’m working on it.”

  
  


***

  
  


Dean’s eyes slide open slowly. He stares up at the blank ceiling, frowning. He’d felt so good last night. Happy, like things with him were turning around. He thought that feeling would stay with him, but it’s long gone, and now he just feels exhausted and unhappy.

He’d planned on heading to the next city today, but that no longer seems appealing. Nothing seems appealing, really. He spends the day in bed, watching cable and feeling angry at himself for being too depressed to even go get something to eat.

It’s nearly ten at night when Dean pulls out Sam’s laptop and signs into the Skype account he barely uses.

**IMPALADEAN:** i was in such a great mood last night but I’ve spent all day today feeling completely fucking miserable

Ruby’s answer comes twenty minutes later.

**RedRum86:** Maybe it’s a pseudo-manic episode. Your emotions were on such a high that they crashed spectacularly.

**IMPALADEAN:** this sucks

**RedRum86:** I’ve been there. It’ll pass. Your brain just isn’t used to positive feelings and it freaked out.

**IMPALADEAN:** at least i have nowhere to be

**RedRum86:** Just be patient. Don’t lose heart, Dean. Resurrection isn’t always an expedient process.

A little cryptic, but the longer Dean stares at the last sentence, the more sense it makes.


	15. Chapter 15

It takes longer than Dean would like for his mood to even out, but by Tuesday morning he does feel better. He showers, shaves, throws a modicum of product in his hair, then gathers his things and checks out of the hotel.

He decides to grab a couple of fast food breakfast sandwiches. The drive to Colorado Springs is the longest leg of his trip, and Dean wants to make up for the two days he spent in bed. He’s on the road by nine, jamming along to the AC/DC tape playing. It’s a beautiful, sunny day out, a great day for driving with the windows down, a great day for a road trip.

If only Sam were with him.

  
  


***

  
  


There are two accidents along the way to Colorado Springs, and they slow traffic considerably. Dean refrains from looking at the first accident scene he passes, but when he goes by the second one curiosity gets the better of him. It doesn’t look like anyone was seriously hurt. There’s an overturned semi in the middle of the road that’s slowing traffic, but Dean can see the slightly banged up driver talking to an officer. The family next to the teal car with the smashed front end and shattered windshield look okay too, but when Dean’s eyes linger on the car too long he realizes it’s the same make and model as Sam’s.

He pulls over at the next rest stop and spends an hour sobbing onto the Impala’s steering wheel. When he finally pulls himself together, it’s with Ruby’s words in mind. “Resurrection isn’t always an expedient process.”

Dean so desperately wants to come back to life.

  
  


***

  
  


It’s after ten at night when Dean checks into a hotel in Colorado Springs and crashes into bed, exhausted. His phone’s been off all day, and when he turns it on there’s a voicemail from his father.

“Got another date with Kate tonight. First one was a bit of a bust, we both spent the whole dinner talking about our dead spouses. Don’t know if I mentioned that before, she’s a widow, going on eight years. Anyway, just wanted to check in. I know we don’t talk much, but it’s still weird not having you across the hall. Drive safe, kiddo.”

Wow, a second date. Dean’s last date was… seventeen months ago? It didn’t go well. Lisa had been dating someone new, and Dean wanted to prove he was over her. He wasn’t, and the date had been a disaster. Among other things, the woman’s name was _Risa,_ and Dean had spent the entire date accidentally calling her Lisa and apologizing. By the time Dean was actually over Lisa, he received another blow in the form of Jo informing him of Lisa’s engagement, then he was going on that camping trip with Bobby, and then Sam was dead. So it’s definitely been a long time since Dean’s been on a real date.

He’d actually considered it a little with Ann Marie, but he’d given a fake name to Pamela, and that would be hard to work around.

Maybe after this road trip… when he’s back home, maybe he’ll think about going out and meeting someone. Ash probably could fix him up with someone that wouldn’t mind a guy that sleeps in his dead brother’s shirts and does nothing but watch movies all day.

Dean sighs, dragging out the folder for the woman living with one of Sam’s kidneys. According to Ash’s research, her name _was_ Celeste Middleton, but now it’s legally Charlene Bradbury. She’s thirty-two, and last year her diabetes chucked her head first into kidney failure. Her emergency contact is a wife named Dorothy Baum, but other than that Charlene doesn’t seem to have any living relatives. Her place of employment is a shop called BradTech Repairs. There’s no address listed, but there’s a phone number.

Dean looks at Sam’s laptop for a long time, trying to think of an excuse to bring it in for repairs. The stupid thing runs great, unfortunately. No viruses, plenty of RAM and hard drive space, nothing that needs repairing or upgrading. He thinks about maybe dumping a soda on it, but that might fuck up all the files.

An idea finally comes to him. Good thing he has a bunch of fucking money. He sets the laptop down on the floor, opening it up so that the back is on the carpet and the important half is up in the air.

“Sorry about this Sammy.”

Dean stomps his foot down hard, wincing at the crunch he hears as the screen and the backing crack under his weight.

That should do nicely.

  
  


***

  
  


“BradTech Repairs, you’re on with the queen.”

Dean’s caught off guard, but responds. “Uh… hi. Are you open?”

The woman on the line snorts. “Open? Didn’t you read the website?”

As a matter of fact, Dean didn’t. “Uh, no ma’am.”

She makes a disgusted noise. “Ma’am? That’s downright offensive. It’s _Charlie_.”

Ah, so this is Charlene. “Um… okay, Charlie,” Dean says, “are you open?”

“What’s your name?”

“Dan Westchester.”

“Well, _Dan,_ BradTech Repairs is a mobile and flexible enterprise.”

“Meaning?”

“I come to you.”

“There’s no store?”

“Nope!” Charlie says cheerfully.

“Uh… alright, well are _you_ open then?”

“Ew, what?”

“No, I mean—”

Charlie laughs. “I’m just messing around. I’m wide open. Where are you, and what’s your issue?”

“I’m at the Embassy Suites, and my laptop screen—”

“A _hotel_?”

“Well, I’m not from here, I’m on a road trip.”

“Okay, haha, no way I’m meeting a guy in his _hotel room_.”

“Well I don’t—”

“You’re just going to have to come to my house.”

“I guess I can—”

“Now I don’t normally do business here, because I have noisy and nosy roommates, and it’s just not professional, you know?”

“Not really, but—”

“But since you’re not from the area, I guess I don’t have to worry about repeat business.”

“Uh… I guess?”

“Alright, well come by one-zero-two-one Dynasty Drive at noon. I’ll look your machine over and give you an estimate. Cash, card, or paypal. _No checks_. But I will take a money order.”

Well, Dean’s card has his real name on it, so he won’t be using _that_. “Okay, no problem.”

“There’s a flat fifty dollar consultation fee, which I will waive if you bring one large pepperoni, and one large _thin crust_ cheese pizza with you.”

“Uh… sure?”

“Great! See you at noon, Dan!”

The line goes dead, and Dean stares at his phone, mouth hanging open. That was… _surreal._

  
  


***

  
  


As it turns out, Charlie’s house is pretty large, probably the largest one Dean’s ever been to. He trudges up the walkway, arms full with two pizza boxes and Sam’s poor, broken laptop sitting on top. He sighs when he reaches the door, wondering if he’s going to drop everything when he tries to ring the doorbell.

Before he can try, the door flies open and the woman he knows to be Charlene Bradbury is standing there, beaming up at him. She looks mostly the same as the photo in her file, though her red hair is short and wavy instead of long and straight.

“Oh thank God, we’re _starving,_ ” she says by way of greeting. She grabs the pile out of Dean’s arms and shuffles into the house. “Wow, what did you _do_ to this poor thing?”

“I uh… it got stepped on.” Dean follows Charlie into the house, closing the front door behind him.

Holy mother of crap, this house is filled to the brim with geek paraphernalia. Shelves full of fantasy novels, action figures, Star Trek posters, and one of the easy chairs has been turned into a _very_ well made replica of the Iron Throne from Game of Thrones. Charlie nudges an Xbox to the side to make room on the coffee table for the pizzas.

“LUNCH IS HERE!” she bellows.

Dean hears pounding footsteps from the upper floors, and the sound of doors opening, and then the den is suddenly full of people.

“Everyone but my wife works from home, so there are _always_ people here, and they’re like… always hungry,” Charlie says. A short, nervous looking man shuffles in, bearing a stack of plates, passing them out to everyone including Dean.

“So that’s Chuck with the plates,” Charlie says, smiling, “Garth over there is the one moving your laptop, and the two idiots arguing over who gets to sit in the Faux Iron Throne are Harry and Ed.”

The two men shoving at each other near the chair immediately stop, looking embarrassed.

“Guys, this is Dan. He’s a hobo or something.”

“I _have_ a home,” Dean insists, “it’s just not in Colorado.”

“Uh huh. Have some pizza. Lunch first, then consultation.”

Somehow Dean ends up on the couch, sitting between Charlie and Garth, munching on some pretty tasty pizza while Wreck-It Ralph plays on the TV. Harry is in the plush Iron Throne, and Ed is glaring at him from his bean bag chair on the floor. Dean gets the distinct impression that this is an old and frequent source of friction between the two of them.

“So, where are you headed, Dan?” Garth asks.

Dean swallows his bite of pizza. “Ah… nowhere exciting. Nebraska, Iowa, Kansas.”

“Why’d you take a road trip?”

“Just needed to get in my car for a while. Had some uh… family stuff a while back, and… anyway I just needed a break, and I had the means, so here I am.”

Garth smiles. He’s so friendly. “Have you been to any good tourist spots?”

“What, like the third biggest ball of twine in Tulsa? Nah. Maybe I should, though.”

“It’s not a road trip until you buy an overpriced t-shirt in some backwater tourist trap,” Charlie says around a mouthful of the thin crust pizza.

“And spend a dollar to flatten a penny in one of those machines all the really corny places seem to have,” Garth adds.

Dean nods. “Maybe I should be expanding my horizons a bit.”

“That’s the spirit,” Charlie says.

They chat for a while, munching on pizza and ignoring the movie. Well. Dean, Charlie, and Garth chat. Chuck doesn’t say much of anything, and Ed and Harry are too busy being pissed at each other to bother engaging in the conversation.

After an hour has gone by, Charlie grabs the remote and flicks off the movie. “Alright, underlings! Time for me to conduct some business. Back to your caves!”

Garth snickers. “Yes, your highness.”

Charlie’s roommates disperse quickly, heading back upstairs with the last of the pizza. Charlie picks up Sam’s laptop, opening it and nodding at the cracked screen and casing.

“Yeah, this is broken.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You’re going to need an all new screen.”

“Okay, that’s cool.”

Charlie pulls out a phone, typing away at lightning speed. “I can have a new screen here to install on Friday. With parts and labor, you’re looking at two hundred sixty-eight dollars. Can you afford that?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“And you’ll be in town on Friday?”

“Well, I kinda have to be,” Dean says, shrugging.

“Sweet! I’m ordering the part now. Your payment will be due at the time of service.”

“That’s no problem at all.”

Charlie jumps to her feet and smiles. “Excellent! Well, I think I’m ready for a bit of a nap. Being an enterprising young professional _really_ wears me out. I’ll call you on Friday to let you know when to bring the laptop by. Unless you want to leave it here?”

“Uh… nah, I’ll just take it with me.”

Charlie grins slowly. “Worried about me finding all your weird porn?”

No, but he is a tad worried about her finding references to Sam and Dean Winchester on the laptop.

“Uh… sure. So much porn. All kinds of crazy shit.”

“Yeah, probably full of weird hobo fetish stuff.”

“You’ve got me all figured out.”

“I’d make an amazing detective.”

Dean likes Charlie. She’s a little odd, but fun, and her somewhat bubbly attitude is actually kind of infectious.

Sam would have liked her a lot.

  
  


***

  
  


Dean spends Thursday going to tourist spots in Colorado Springs. He spends the morning hours at the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo. There’s a ski ride that’s supposed to have a great view, and Dean’s mildly tempted to take it, but he decides the majesty of the zoo mountain isn’t quite worth confronting his fear of heights. For some reason he spends a huge chunk of time in the African Penguin exhibit. Maybe it’s the way they waddle, maybe it’s something else, but he likes watching them the most. He even buys himself a large stuffed penguin at the zoo store, a Cheyenne Mountain Zoo t-shirt, and smaller stuffed penguins for everyone at home.

For lunch, Dean ends up at The Green Line Grill, eating a massive double cheeseburger piled with caramelized onions. Dean’s in heaven with this burger. The patties are thick and juicy, the cheese is gooey; it’s perfect. The fries are delicious, and Dean’s considering coming back tomorrow after noticing that fries are free on Fridays.

After lunch, Dean somehow finds himself at the World Figure Skating Museum and Hall of Fame. Dean’s never cared about figure skating, so the experience is wasted on him. He stays for nearly an hour, though, looking at all the various costumes on display, and reading a bunch of blurbs that he forgets by the time he walks out with his five dollar pewter ice skate keychain.

The American Numismatic Association Money Museum is a bit more interesting. Dean’s never been into coin collecting, but he can appreciate the age and rarity of some of the items. One of the star exhibits is The Brasher Doubloon, and according to the display it was the first gold coin minted in the United States. That seems cool. Ish. Dean spends several minutes imagining himself as a cat burglar, stealing rare coins from places like this and selling them on the black market. A stern looking woman with a clipboard clears her throat loudly when Dean lingers too long at the doubloon display, and he takes that as his cue to leave.

He wasn’t _really_ going to steal anything.

The Ghost Town Museum is cheesy. And creepy. But after two hours of looking at skating costumes and rare coins, Dean finds it pretty endearing. All the old timey buildings and items are interesting to look at, but the wax statues freak Dean the fuck out.

By the time he leaves, it’s almost six and Dean’s definitely ready to get out of his shoes and watch some cable in his hotel room. He stops at Taco Bell, and by seven he’s sprawled out in a queen sized bed, eating tacos and watching one of the Fast and Furious movies while he does a few puzzles in the puzzle book he bought in Wichita. He’s not sure if tourist attractions are really his thing, but it was an okay way to spend his day.

 


	16. Chapter 16

Dean is in the middle of enjoying his bottomless fries back at The Green Line Grill when his phone goes off, the number for BradTech repairs displaying on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Charlie! I’ve got your replacement screen ready to install, you free to head over?”

“Sure, just need to get a doggy bag and I’ll be on my way.”

“Alright, see you soon!”

The call ends, and Dean gets a to-go box for his fries and the burger he mostly ignored in favor of said fries.

Twenty minutes later and Dean is knocking at the door, laptop in hand. Charlie answers the door, and she’s… wearing a cape. And some sort of medieval gown. And a crown. This is not at all what Dean was expecting.

“Uh, am I interrupting something?”

“What makes you say that?” Charlie says, like she doesn’t know she’s dressed like that.

“You’re wearing a crown.”

Charlie shrugs. “My coronation is later,” she says, like that’s supposed to make sense. “I was just making sure everything looked good!”

Dean is so, so, lost. Charlie grins, leading him into the kitchen where a variety of tools are set out on the table, as well as the new screen.

Charlie plops down in one of the chairs. “Have a seat!”

Dean sits, watching with interest as Charlie disassembles Sam’s laptop with care. Eccentricities or no, it’s clear she’s very practiced and knows what she’s doing. Several minutes pass in silence, and once the novelty of watching a medieval queen take apart a laptop starts to wear off, Dean speaks.

“So, coronation?”

“Ever heard of LARPing?”

“Uh… no, can’t say I have.”

“Okay well LARP stands for Live Action Role Play. Think of Dungeons and Dragons, but instead of describing our adventure, we act it out.”

“Oh, that sounds uh… cool?”

Charlie snorts. “It sounds stupid and geeky if you’re not into it, but if you _are_ into it… okay well it’s still geeky, but it’s also fun.”

“So you act out fights and stuff? Where?”

“The park, mostly. Like big parks, where we can rent out a big space and rig up tents and battlefields and stuff. Except today we rented out this huge old warehouse, and it’s going to look more like a great hall. That’s where everyone else is right now… getting it all put together. Lots of foam and cardboard sets being put up so it looks less like a warehouse. Everyone’s really excited, we don’t get to use the hall sets that often.”

“Wow. So, all your roommates are into this too? How many people are coming?”

Charlie pauses in her work. “Let’s see… about a hundred?”

“Holy shit.”

“Sometimes it’s less, like maybe fifty, and then other times it’s closer to two hundred.”

“Well, fuck. So, you said you have a wife, right? Is she into this too?”

Charlie snickers. “Not really. Dorothy teaches history at the community college, and does workshops most weekends, so she’s way busier. Plus all the inaccuracies drive her _nuts_. She’s coming tonight though.”

“Because of your coronation? Aww.”

Charlie’s smile softens. “I was… sick for a long time. I’m better now, but she’s so glad that I’m back in sword fighting shape, she’ll put up with a few of the more important storyline bits. She was there for the battle where I won my new title, too.”

“Did you say _sword fighting_?”

“Foam swords.”

“Okay, that makes more sense than a bunch of nerds massacring each other. So. Um, what were you sick with?” Dean asks, like he doesn’t already know.

“Well, I’m diabetic, and my kidneys kind of crapped out on me. So there was a stretch of time where I was kind of wasting away. _But,_ then I got a kidney transplant, and now I’ve got three kidneys!”

“ _Three?_ ”

“Well, my natural kidneys aren’t really doing anything, but they’re still in there.”

“I don’t know whether to find that interesting or disgusting.”

“When I was in recovery I met a guy on his second transplant, he had four kidneys sitting in his body, and only one of them functioned.”

This is making Dean wonder how many times he’s walked past someone with an odd number of kidneys inside them. “Sounds like your title was _very_ hard earned, then.”

“It sure was. There’s a ah… personal cost that comes with me LARPing with so many people.”

Dean frowns. “Oh. Anti-rejection meds, huh.”

Charlie nods. “Yep. I catch a lot of colds during battle games, but the regulars have gotten better about incorporating something that covers their mouths when they’re sick, and it’s actually helped. They’re good people. Anyway, worth it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Charlie looks at Dean, grinning slowly.

“You’re freaking me out, what?!”

“You should come!”

“What? Uh… dude, I’m not…”

“Hey now, I saw your phone case on Wednesday. I know you’ve got some weird in you.”

“It was a gift!”

“Come on, _Dan_.”

There’s something about the way Charlie says his “name” that makes Dean realize she’s figured out he gave a fake name.

“You uh… you know…”

“That you gave a fake name? Yessir. I have… ways. I mean I don’t know your _actual_ name, just that it’s _not_ Dan Westchester.”

“I’m sorry, Charlie, I just…”

“Hey! It’s totally fine. And you don’t have to tell me your real name, I get the whole… new identity thing. My name wasn’t always Charlie Bradbury.”

Dean wonders if she’d be mad if he told her he knows exactly what her name used to be.

“I’m not like… on the FBI Most Wanted list, if that helps.”

Charlie rolls her eyes. “Well I’ve _seen_ that list, I think I’d recognize you.”

“It’s kind of a… road trip thing.”

“Well just so you know, it doesn’t suit you at _all_ , but if you need a fake ID…”

“Tempting, but no. It really is just a road trip thing. My real life and my real name are waiting for me.”

“Anyway. _Dan_. If you can honestly tell me you have something _better_ to do with your night, I’ll let it go.”

Dean opens his mouth, then closes it. Of course he doesn’t have anything better to do. He sighs. “Do I have to wear a costume?”

Charlie grins.

  
  


***

  
  


After Charlie finishes repairing the laptop, Dean pays her fee, and the two of them end up in a costume shop downtown, cobbling together an outfit for Dean. He gets a pair of pants and a shirt made with a light brown canvas-like material, a dark brown leather jerkin, and some sort of chain mail… shawl around his shoulders. It costs quite a bit, but Dean turns down Charlie’s offer to help pay.

When they get back to the house, there’s a pretty dark haired woman standing in the living room, fussing with the waist tie on her beige tunic. Charlie’s face falls.

“What happened to the dress?”

The woman looks up at Charlie, eyes going soft at the sight of her. “Oh, you look lovely.”

Charlie narrows her eyes. “The dress?”

“I look _weird_ in dresses, Charlie!”

“Come on, you’re my consort, you have to—”

“Your _consort_.” The woman sighs, frowning down at her clothes. “Fine, fine. You’re so lucky I love you.” She starts to walk away, then turns back, looking at Dean. “Who’s he?”

“He’s my handmaiden for the night,” Charlie says.

Dean chokes on nothing. “Your _what_.”

“Bodyguard?”

“Better.”

Charlie blows a raspberry at Dean. “Dan, Dorothy. Dorothy, Dan.”

“He’s pretty,” Dorothy says.

Charlie smirks. “Jealous?”

Dorothy snorts and walks out of the room.

“Ahh, wedded bliss,” Dean says.

“Quiet, handmaiden.”

“ _Bodyguard_. I’m going to stand next to you and look imposing and maybe taste your food to make sure it hasn’t been poisoned.”

“Hmm… I like it. Hold on one second.” Charlie disappears out of the room and comes back with a leather belt and a large foam sword. “If you’re my guard, you’ll need a weapon.”

“Yes!” Dean puts the belt on, then does a few test moves with the sword. “Great balance on this. So, is there like… a script or anything?”

“Nah, not really. Not in our game anyway. Kind of an improv thing. There are scenes and campaigns where the vague idea is plotted out in advance, but that’s about it. It mostly works, but every so often some jackass will claim to be an ancient god with infinite powers and lives and we have to decide whether to go along with it or break character and put a stop to it. One time a guy was running around claiming he was a descendant of the _Frankenstein family,_ and that he had awesome powers, and he kept ‘killing’ everyone and he was just being really obnoxious and if someone ‘killed’ him, he’d pretend it didn’t happen. We had to stop the game altogether for the day, and he didn’t leave until one of our people threatened him with actual physical violence. That sucked, the guy just wasn’t willing to play by the rules and it took everyone out of the story. Anyway, that stuff rarely happens. People mostly get that you have to abide by what rules we do have, and… why are you smiling like that?”

“Honestly? I kind of admire your passion. I’m not like that about… anything, really. Haven’t been in a long time.”

“Maybe you’ll find your passion on this road trip! You never know.” Charlie pauses and blinks a few times. “I feel like that sounded weirdly sexual. I’m _gay_ just so you know.”

“Well that’s fine, as I am painfully uninterested in sex as of late.”

“That’s a shame,” Dorothy says, coming back into the room. “Because a guy like you could _totally_ score at this coronation.”

Charlie claps her hands excitedly at the sight of her wife. Dorothy is in a fairly simple green gown, with a low collar and billowy sleeves. Her hair is down, and she’s wearing a circlet of fake flowers. Before she can even react, Charlie is whipping her phone out of her cape and snapping a photo.

“My inner tween is excited to play dress up with my lady love, sue me.”

“Aw, come on, Charlie,” Dorothy groans.

“ _Coronation._ ”

“You can’t keep using that to get your way with things.”

“Coronation!”

Dorothy just rolls her eyes.

  
  


***

  
  


The parking area for the former furniture warehouse is packed to the brim with vehicles, but Charlie directs Dean to a spot right at the front. There’s a hastily made sign that reads “RESERVED FOR THE QUEEN OF THE MOONS”, and Dean smiles.

“Ooh, perks.”

“Being queen is awesome, that’s how I got out of helping set up for tonight,” Charlie boasts.

“She’ll go mad with power within a month, mark my words,” Dorothy says.

When they get out of the Impala, Dean is excited to hook his big foam sword to the belt at his waist. Dorothy turns to Charlie, fussing to make sure her crown and cape are just right.

“Okay,” Charlie says, “so some of us affect silly fake fancy accents, just roll with that. And try not to let real life seep in until the event is over. Is your phone powered down?”

Dean pulls out his phone and turns it off, glaring when Dorothy snickers at the case.

“There shouldn’t be any battles tonight but if anything _does_ happen, remember it’s a _game_ , don’t give anyone a black eye,” Charlie says, shooting a glare at Dorothy.

Dorothy clears her throat awkwardly. “That was months ago, and Garth is _fine_ now.”

“And remember, you’re my bodyguard, so be sure to have your best intimidating face on.”

Dean nods once, standing up straight and letting his expression harden into something cold and threatening. Charlie’s eyes widen with delight, and Dean winks.

“If you get bored, remember there’s food at this shindig.”

Dorothy sighs lightly. “Okay let’s do this,” she says, opening the front door. Charlie lets out a whoop, pumping her fist as they step into “The Great Hall”.

Dean knew the Hall would be corny, but it’s also impressive. The walls of the main room are dotted with flashlights made to look like torches, and there is paneling along all the inner walls; thick cardboard and foam panels covered in what looks to be wallpaper meant to look like stone. There’s hay scattered all over the floor to hide the concrete, and massive swatches of fake fur over the windows and other doors. There are long tables covered in red faux-velvet cloths to hide that they’re made of metal and plastic, and each table is lined with battery powered candelabras and bales of hay for seating. The table furthest from the door has actual chairs at it, each draped with more of the fake furs.

Individually, the parts of the room look a little silly and cheap, but together, it really creates a fantasy atmosphere. Aside from the table at the back, all the tables are full of people chatting, laughing, drinking from plastic goblets, generally having a good time. Dean almost utters a “wow”, but he’s in character so he stops himself.

A portly man with long dark hair comes hustling over.

“Ah, Reznick, the herald,” Charlie says, sounding slightly more formal. “Please announce us. You know my consort, Dorothy, and this is my guard, sir Dan of Westchester.”

Reznick bellows in a way that instantly grabs the attention of everyone in the Hall. “YOUR REGENT CHARLIE, HERO OF THE BATTLE FOR MOONDOR, HER CONSORT LADY DOROTHY, AND HER GUARD, SIR DAN OF WESTCHESTER.”

The people in the room all rise from their tables, applauding as Reznick leads them to the table at the back. Charlie and Dorothy both sit, but Dean declines, electing instead to stand against the wall to better survey the room.

Ruby’s going to piss herself laughing if he tells her about this.

The herald begins to tell a tale, which turns out to be the story of how Charlie won her crown from the previous ruler, Boltar the Furious, who was not at all liked, in a way that went deeper than just the game. Reznick lists Charlie’s many feats in a battle said to stretch over many moons. Charlie told Dean about how they usually meet one to four weekends a month, so he’s assuming “many moons” means multiple weekends.

Dean glances at Charlie and Dorothy. His heart swells at the look of genuine pride on Dorothy’s face. She’s not even into all of this and yet she’s truly proud of her wife’s accomplishments, and Dean thinks that’s beautiful.

He doesn’t understand large chunks of Reznick’s tale, there are terms and references that go right over his head. He’s never been one for fantasy games; he’s always been more of a Street Fighter or Guitar Hero kind of guy. All of this is making him want to get into it, though. Sam might have loved all this, Dean did find games like World of Warcraft and Skyrim on the laptop.

It’s interesting hearing the fantasy version of the events of the battle. Charlie and Dorothy told Dean how things really went down in the car ride over, and it was less epic and fun, and more a guy being a total douche. Boltar the Furious is in real life a guy named Gerry, who was given his rule by a man who moved to another state a couple of years ago and had to leave the game. Within a few months the “power” had really gone to his head. He made ridiculous changes and rules, was an asshole to pretty much everyone, angered the other groups that played this game to the point that people role playing elves and shadow orcs splintered off and now have their own separate games. Several people stopped playing altogether. When Charlie defeated him after a long and fair campaign, she became the new queen. Gerry threw a tantrum and eventually was banned from the game by mutual agreement of everyone.

The story actually goes on for quite a while, and it’s interesting, but Dean can’t help but be relieved when Reznick starts to wrap up. “And with that in mind, I present this crown on behalf of all those now under your rule.” He approaches the table, and Dean can’t help but break character and grin when Reznick places the elaborate crown on Charlie’s head.

“All hail Charlie, Hero of the Battle for Moondoor, and your Queen of the Moons!” Reznick declares, turning to face the room. The hall erupts into applause and cheers, and one group of people even chants Charlie’s name. Charlie stands, waving benevolently and waiting until the excitement dies down before speaking.

“Eloquent as always, Reznick. Alright, I’m going to get right to what I know you’re all wondering… will there be any changes? Short answer? Yes. First of all, I’m cutting the maximum time a person can be left in the stocks by _half,_ back to what it was before Boltar’s reign.”

Wait, is she being literal? Do they have actual stocks? Damn, this game is hardcore.

“I also want to start talks with the Elf and Orc clans to see about bringing back ambassadors, and helping our people find common ground. There are some other plans that you’ll all be hearing about when we meet next, but for now… let us feast!”

The crowd cheers again, and Dean can’t help but chuckle when Harry and Ed walk in, each carrying a large stack of pizza boxes. Not exactly medieval food, but Dean supposes a closed down warehouse isn’t a great place to cook a meal for a hundred people.

Charlie sits and turns to look at Dean. “I think you can have a moment off for a bite of food, Sir Dan.”

Dean nods. “As you wish, my queen.” He grabs a slice of pepperoni pizza from the table as Harry sets a box down. He throws Charlie a wink before resuming his post. There’s no real way to look intimidating while munching on a slice of pizza, but Dean gives it his best shot.

He’s nibbling his way through the crust when he notices a hooded figure that seems to be approaching the table. He’s not too interested. The guy looks a little shady, but maybe the hood is part of the mystique. Then he breaks into a run, still a good distance away. Dean has a bad feeling, now. His body seems to move of its own volition, and then he’s dropping his pizza and running toward the possible intruder.

“SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS!”

The man pulls his arm back, ready to throw something at Charlie or Dorothy, and that’s when Dean reaches him and holds his arm out firmly, clotheslining him. The guy’s legs fly out from underneath him and he crashes to the floor, dropping what was apparently a balloon full of black dye. It’s all over the right side of the guy’s face, and is already staining the concrete underneath the hay.

For a moment things fall dead silent, and Dean starts to recall what Charlie said about not actually _hurting_ anyone, and glances back at the table. Fuck. Charlie looks pissed, and Dean feels like such an asshole. She pulls the crown off her head and storms over, and then Dean realizes she’s glaring at the whimpering guy on the floor, not him.

“What the hell are you doing here, Gerry?!” she hisses.

So then, this is Boltar the Furious, or Gerry the Banished. Gerry’s wits slowly come back to him, and he glares up at Charlie. “You stole my kingdom!”

“I didn’t _steal_ anything, I rallied people to my cause, took on the incredibly small band of loyalists you had, and I _won_ with nearly everyone’s support.”

“They just pitied you, Charlene. If you hadn’t had a dumb kidney transplant, no one would give a fuck.”

Charlie rolls her eyes. “No, they were tired of you sucking all the fun out of the damn game. A game which forbids the use of things like damn _dye packs_.”

“You kicked me out, I don’t care about your _rules,_ you stupid bitch!”

Dorothy lunges out of nowhere, growling when Charlie holds her back. She looks ready to claw Gerry’s face off.

Dean knows the scene is clearly ruined after this mess, but he slips back into character anyway. “My _queen,”_ he says, grinning at Charlie, “please allow me to deal with this intruder while you and the good people of Moondoor return to the festivities.”

Charlie looks startled, and then she’s smiling. “Thank you, Sir Dan.” She looks around the room, raising her voice. “Shall we continue to fill our bellies while my guard deals with the interloper?”

The crowd cheers in affirmation, and Charlie gives Dean a nod before pulling Dorothy back to their table. Dean reaches down, grabbing Gerry by both arms and hauling him to his feet. He drags Gerry by the front of his tunic, pulling him through the rows of tables. Some of the people they pass stay in character, saying things like “death to Boltar the Furious!” but others are too angry to bother, and are more content to hiss “you’re such a fucking asshole, Gerry”.

Dean practically throws Gerry out the door, stalking after him. He looks at Dean, wide eyed, actually scared. Neat.

“Are you going to call the cops?” Gerry says, voice kind of wimpy and pathetic.

Dean puts an arm around him, smiling with the most menacing grin he can muster. “Gerry, Gerry, Gerry… I’m not going to call the cops. We don’t need to get them involved. But what I _am_ going to do, Gerry,” Dean tightens his grip, “is beat the god damn shit out of you if you bother any of these people again.”

Gerry squeaks, trying and failing to pull away.

“Do you understand me, Gerry?”

“Yes, okay? Yes!”

“Awesome! Now get the fuck out of here,” Dean says, letting Gerry go. He shoves him hard, watching him bolt for his car. “And get some therapy, you power hungry geek!”

  
  


***

  
  


The rest of the evening passes smoothly. There’s eating, and laughter, and even music in the form of Garth performing a wood flute recital. He’s not bad. Several people come up to Dean to compliment his quick thinking and commitment to his “duties”. A few girls flirt with him, but despite the fact that he’s enjoying himself, he doesn’t flirt back.

Lots of people come up to pay their respect to their new queen. Dean can tell that underneath the play acting, there is genuine gratitude from these people to Charlie for replacing Gerry.

An older woman approaches the table, smiling broadly at Charlie. She has dark skin and kind eyes, and although she looks to be probably fifty, she’s still not the oldest person here.

Charlie smiles. “Ah! Missouri, our seer.”

“You ladies look so lovely tonight!” Missouri says.

Dorothy stares at the table, blushing. “Aw, come on Missouri.”

“Don’t be shy, honey! Nothing wrong with looking lovely! And you, Charlene! You look so healthy! Congratulations on your crown, you deserve it. You worked hard to get here.”

“You bet your ass I did!” Charlie says.

Missouri frowns slightly. “Now, Charlene…”

“Sorry, sorry. You bet your _behind_ I did.”

“Better.” Missouri looks over at Dean, eyes going sad. “Hello, there.”

“Uh, hey,” Dean says awkwardly. She’s looking at him with a pretty hefty amount of pity, and it’s freaking him out.

“I’m so _sorry_ about your brother,” Missouri says earnestly.

Dean kind of can’t breathe, barely managing to choke out a tiny “what?” while he tries not to run out of the room.

“Don’t you worry,” Missouri says gently, “he’s in a good place now, and you’re going to be so _glad_ you went on this trip by the time it’s over. Good things are waiting for you.”

“What?” Dean says again, voice a little less shaky.

Missouri smiles warmly and moseys on back to her table. Dean turns to Charlie, eyes wide.

“What the hell was _that_?”

“Yeah,” Dorothy says, staring out after Missouri, “she just… does that sometimes.”

“But how did she—”

“I have no idea,” Charlie says. “The first time I met her, she kept accidentally calling me Celeste. Which is my birth name. Which _no one_ here knew at the time.”

Dorothy finally stops watching Missouri and looks over at Dean. “She gave me a first edition of my favorite book for my birthday last year, even though I never told her what it was.”

“Maybe Charlie told—”

Charlie stares at Dean, shaking her head slowly. “Dude, just do what the rest of us have learned to do.”

“Shrug and move on,” Dorothy says.

“But…”

“Shrug and move on.”

Dean stares at Dorothy, then at Charlie for a long moment. Then he sighs and reaches for a new slice of pizza.

  
  


***

  
  


It’s nearly midnight when Dean brings Charlie and Dorothy back to their house. The others are all at the warehouse, taking the sets down and cleaning up. Dorothy is dead on her feet, and heads right upstairs after yawning a goodnight to Charlie and Dean.

“I’m going to miss this New Queen stuff next game, when I’m back to helping set up with everyone else,” Charlie whines.

“Awww,” Dean says, smirking.

“Shut up. So, did you have fun?”

“Honestly? I really did. Thank you for bringing me, Charlie.”

“I think you need some photos for posterity.”

“I do?”

“Yes.”

Dean rolls his eyes and takes his phone out of his pocket. He does his best to ignore the way Charlie is grinning at the case. They take a photo of themselves smooshed into the frame together, then Charlie takes a few of Dean posing with the foam sword.

“Should we get some of you?” Dean says.

“I made Chuck take some of me before he left earlier… wish I’d gotten more of Dorothy, though. She is _so_ not a dress person. I mean I’m not either, but she’s super stubborn about it. I’m going to print the one I got and stick it in my wallet,” Charlie says, sighing dreamily.

“You two are adorable.”

“Hush.” Charlie’s expression grows a bit uncertain, and she grabs a paper from a stack on the coffee table. “So, um… if you’re ever interested in doing this again, this page has our upcoming game days. There’s a website too, here at the top, and the site is better because sometimes dates or locations get changed last minute. Like for example, the coronation isn’t on here because these dates were all planned out before I decided to come for Gerry’s crown. Um… anyway, yeah.” She holds the paper out, and Dean takes it. “If you’re ever in the area…”

Dean grins. “You bet your ass.”

Charlie looks elated. She launches herself at him, and he grunts in surprise at the tight hug before squeezing back. Dean’s going to miss Charlie, and it blows his mind to think he just met her two days ago.

  
  


***

  
  


Dean doesn’t know why he’s such a glutton for punishment, but before he goes to sleep he signs into Skype on his phone and sends one of his costume photos to Ruby.

  
  


***

  
  


When he wakes up, there are several messages from Ruby on Skype, sent last night.

**RedRum86:** WHAT

**RedRum86:** WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?

**RedRum86:** IS THAT A TOY SWORD?

**RedRum86:** WHOSE HOUSE ARE YOU IN?

**RedRum86:** ANSWER ME OR I’M SENDING THIS TO JO.

Dean rolls his eyes and gets to typing.

**IMPALADEAN:** were you drunk last night?

The answer comes fifteen minutes later.

**RedRum86:** Were YOU?

**IMPALADEAN:** you know I wasn’t

**RedRum86:** I know nothing. You’re in MEDIEVAL GARB.

**IMPALADEAN:** don’t knock it till you’ve tried it

A few minutes pass, then a photo comes up in the chat window. Dean zooms in. It’s Sam and Ruby, both wearing leather jerkins and pants. Dean ignores the pang of sickness and loneliness he feels just seeing a photo of Sam. The pair are dressed like archers, at what appears to be a Renaissance fair.

**IMPALADEAN:** you’re fucking kidding me sam never told me about this

**RedRum86:** He thought you’d make fun of him.

**IMPALADEAN:** he was right

**RedRum86:** So? What’s with you in the costume?

**IMPALADEAN:** just meeting lots of cool people on my trip

**RedRum86:** Ren Faire people?

**IMPALADEAN:** larpers

**RedRum86:** What the fuck is a larper?

**IMPALADEAN:** live action roleplayers

The next reply takes a few minutes to come in.

**RedRum86:** Meg kicked me out of bed for laughing too loud.

**IMPALADEAN:** GOOD

**RedRum86:** I can’t believe Sam worried you would think HE was a dork.

**IMPALADEAN:** i thought he was a dork anyway

**RedRum86:** Did you have fun being a stone cold dweeb?

**IMPALADEAN:** i did. even knocked a guy on his ass and threatened to beat the shit out of him

**RedRum86:** Why???

**IMPALADEAN:** he was an asshole

**RedRum86:** You bully.

**IMPALADEAN:** >:)


	17. Chapter 17

Dean doesn’t go anywhere on Saturday. He spends the day expecting an emotional crash like last week, but it never really comes. He’s a little bored, maybe a little bit blue, but it’s nothing like last time. Maybe he’s already overcoming his allergy to having a good time.

He’s looking forward to coming back sometime and playing another game with Charlie. Maybe he’ll even tell her his real name.

  
  


***

  
  


On Sunday, Dean has breakfast sent to his room, and after a pile of food and a hot shower, Dean sets out for Kearney, Nebraska. By the time he gets there, it’s about three in the afternoon and he’s famished.

Sam’s other kidney is here, in a man named Fergus MacLeod, who needed a transplant after his polycystic kidney disease ravaged his natural kidneys. Fergus is forty-eight years old, and works in a place called “Crowley’s Tailoring Experience”. It’s closed on weekends, so Dean has nowhere to be today. He feels like maybe he should have stayed in Colorado Springs another day, seen if Charlie wanted to hang out, maybe. But he’s here, so he books a hotel room, showers the road sweat off, and goes out in search of lunch.

He ends up in a place called The Flippin’ Sweet. It’s pretty busy, and Dean gets a lot of funny looks when he kills time playing a game on his phone. People are always so baffled by the phone case, but Dean has grown fond of the ridiculous thing, and has no plans to change it.

The wait ends up being worth it, though. He ends up with his own ten inch pizza, topped with pepperoni, Italian sausage, bacon, bell peppers, caramelized onions, mushrooms, black olives, and roasted garlic. It’s heavy with sauce, piping hot, and Dean eats the entire thing in one sitting. Fucking delicious. Before Dean leaves, he gets an order of eight-cheese macaroni and cheese with added bacon to go. His hotel room has a mini fridge and a microwave, after all.

  
  


***

  
  


“Hello?”

“Uggggh…” Dean groans into the receiver.

“Dean?”

“UGH.”

Dean’s father sighs. “I’m getting ready to see Kate, is something on your mind?”

“Just wanted you to know I’m once again taking your suggestion about eating local.”

“Eat too much, Dean-o?” John says, and Dean can _hear_ the smirk.

“ _Yes._ ”

John chuckles. The sound is still so foreign to Dean, but it’s comforting. “Thought you were experienced enough to see the wisdom in moderation by now.”

“With _alcohol,_ not with bacon mac and cheese.”

“Well, now I want macaroni and cheese.”

“Glad I could help, Dad.”

  
  


***

  
  


On Monday, Dean is in his car headed for Crowley’s Tailoring Experience when he realizes he should probably have something to be tailored. He sighs, pulling over in the nearest parking lot. Dean’s never been to a damn tailor, do they sell suits in the store? Should Dean find a Men’s Wearhouse or something? The clothes he has in the trunk of his car and on the floor of his hotel room are certainly nothing anyone would bring to a fancy tailor. With a sigh, Dean pulls out his phone and looks up directions for the nearest Sears.

  
  


***

  
  


When Dean finally arrives at Crowley’s Tailoring Experience, he’s carrying a dark gray suit, and wearing a button up white shirt with his jeans. The shop has a strong, masculine elegance, it’s all dark, rich wood surfaces and plush leather benches. There _are_ on the rack suits for sale, though, so Dean went all the way to Sears for nothing.There’s a young man sitting on a tall chair behind the front counter, feet up next to the register, flipping through an issue of Men’s Health. Other than him, the store is empty.

“Uh, hey,” Dean says awkwardly.

The man looks up. “DAD, CUSTOMER!” he bellows. He has what sounds like a Scottish accent.

A man comes slamming out of a door Dean hadn’t noticed. He’s older, shorter, balder, and a great deal surlier than Dean. There’s a beard that wasn’t in his photo in Ash’s file, but Dean recognizes him as Fergus MacLeod.

“For the last time, Gavin, get your feet off the bloody counter,” Fergus growls.

Gavin rolls his eyes. “Oh right, wouldn’t want our dozens of customers seeing me looking unprofessional, yeah?”

Weird. Fergus has a British accent, but his son has a Scottish accent. His son is named Gavin MacLeod, which Dean is pretty sure is the name of one of the actors from The Love Boat. Gavin and Fergus glare at one another with pure contempt until Gavin finally sighs and takes his feet off the counter. Fergus looks up at the ceiling as though imploring the heavens, then over at Dean. His eyes dart to the suit in Dean’s transparent garment bag, and his expression manages to sour even further.

“No. Absolutely not. I have _standards,_ and I won’t be servicing an eighty dollar suit from _Sears,_ thank you.”

“It was actually more than eight—”

“Do you know who I _am_?”

“The… the tailor?”

“I’m _Crowley,_ the proprietor of this business.”

Dean’s a little confused, because this guy’s name is definitely Fergus MacLeod. “Your name is Crowley?”

“Is there a problem?” Fergus… or Crowley barks.

Gavin sets his magazine down, smirking at Dean. “Doesn’t look like a Crowley, does he? That’s because the soggy wanker’s name is Fergus.”

“ _Gavin._ ”

“He just uses this name to rebel against my dead granny.” Gavin points behind himself with his thumb. On the wall there’s a large portrait of a beautiful but imposing red headed woman.

“ _Gavin…_ ”

“Personally I think he’s got the right idea. Soon as Dad kicks it I’ll be hopping off to change my name so people stop making jokes about the stupid Love Boat!” Gavin’s glaring daggers at his father.

“Gavin!”

“ _What_?! Forgive me if I’m a bit starved for attention, don’t see many customers, now do we? Maybe you ought to accept this lad’s business and make some money ya scotch guzzling bampot!”

Gavin storms out of the shop, and Crowley lets out a put upon sigh as he throws his hands up in frustration.

Dean is so, _so_ uncomfortable. “Mr… uh… Mr. Crowley, I could buy one of the suits here?”

Crowley’s face completely transforms, and he smiles a big, eager smile. “Now, now, no ‘mister’, just Crowley will do,” he says, leading Dean over to the suits.

  
  


***

  
  


Dean chooses a two button solid indigo three piece suit, a white shirt identical to the one he’s already wearing, a dark blue tie, and a pair of dress shoes. All at Crowley’s suggestion after he vetoed every single choice Dean attempted to make.

He stands mostly quiet while Crowley buzzes around, taking measurements so that the sleeves and pant legs can be narrowed and shortened, the jacket can be adjusted, the shoulders, waistcoat, and pant waist can be taken in, and the pant legs cuffed. Dean knows _nothing_ about suits, so he has no idea if these things are actually necessary and not just made up alterations Crowley is claiming need to be done so he can get more money.

What he does know is that Crowley is an asshole. Dean has liked and enjoyed the company of every person he’s tracked down so far, but he does _not_ like Crowley. Crowley talks, endlessly and angrily about things whether Dean responds or not. He complains about Gavin’s many apparent failings, how people in this town are uncultured swine who don’t _deserve_ to be his customers, and he mentions how awful Dean’s Sears suit is at _least_ six times. He seems utterly incapable of mentioning women without using either the word “bitch” or the word “whore”, even when describing his own mother, and at some point Dean realizes the British accent is an intentional affectation stemming from Crowley’s rebellion against his dead mother that _clearly_ did not give him enough hugs as a child.

When Crowley starts talking about how inferior American cars are, even _after_ Dean mentions his Impala, Dean nearly punches him in the face. He’s actually craving a drink for the first time in months, and he can’t wait to get the hell out of here and find something deep fried to eat.

By the time he’s changed back into his other clothes, he’s calmed down a bit. He hustles over to the ATM across the street to take out the nine _hundred_ dollars the suit and alterations are costing him, and when he comes back Crowley is once again eyeing Dean’s suit from Sears.

“You kept the receipt for that, I hope.”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean says.

Crowley clucks his tongue in disapproval. “Gavin was supposed to handle the register, but I expect the brat has fucked off to the pub.” He steps behind the counter, eyeing the wad of cash in Dean’s hand hungrily. “Name?”

Amazing. Crowley told Dean about the time Gavin was caught cheating on his SATs, _and_ about how Crowley himself was conceived at a pagan orgy in Scotland, but he never bothered to ask Dean for his name.

“Dan Westchester,” Dean says, and for once he doesn’t feel the slightest bit guilty for the lie.

“Alright, Mr. Westchester, your suit should be ready tomorrow afternoon if you want to stop by between three and five. You’re lucky I happen to have no other projects to work on, otherwise this would take longer.”

Yeah. Real lucky Crowley happens to have no other business at the moment. “Uh, alright, thanks.”

Dean pays and leaves with his Sears suit, his new shirt, shoes, and tie, and a visceral craving for mozzarella sticks.

  
  


***

  
  


Dean returns the suit to Sears with no problem, but instead of heading somewhere to get food, he drives back to his hotel, goes to his room, pulls off his shoes, crawls into bed, and he cries.

It’s not just a few frustrated tears, either. Dean is sobbing, face getting sticky with tears while he angrily punches his pillow.

These people all deserve to live. Dean knows that. But Sam is _gone._ Sam is gone forever, and his kidney is living on in that walking pile of bitterness and it hurts so fucking much. Everyone he’s met so far has been amazing, and glad to be alive, and grateful for the gift they received. Crowley’s only mention of the kidney was when he bitched that because of his “damn transplant”, he’s on many medications and can’t enjoy his favorite scotch as liberally as he used to. Dean was already a white hot ball of rage at that point, so he’d barely even reacted.

Crowley is alive, he was given a second chance, and he only cares that he can no longer have his fill of Glenkinchie 1991 Distillers Edition. Dean never expected the people he met to be out there living every second of life to the fullest and shouting their gratitude from the rooftops, but this… it hurts. He’d get the fuck out of Kearney tonight, but seeing as he spent nearly a grand on a damn suit he’s _never_ going to wear, he might as well stick around long enough to collect it.

It’s only seven, but Dean is beyond worn out. He washes the tears from his face, changes into one of Sam’s shirts, and lies in the mostly dark room until sleep comes for him.

  
  


***

  
  


“Some of us have _jobs_ you know.”

Dean glances at the time on his phone. It’s nine a.m. in Nebraska, which means it’s eight where Ruby is, which means she’s not at work yet.

“You’re not at work.”

“No, but I was about to go for a run.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Well I was _considering_ it. What’s wrong? You sound all _sad_ again, did you crash? Ugh, emotionally, I mean.”

“Not exactly. It’s just… I’m in the next town… and the guy is a massive asshole.”

“Like how?”

Dean takes a deep breath. “He berates his son in front of strangers, and he has all these weird mommy issues. I mean he goes by a different name and uses a fake accent as some sort of weird rebellion against his mom, and she’s _dead_. Yet he has a giant fucking painting of her hanging in his store. And he complained about his transplant because it gets in the way of him gorging on his favorite scotch.”

“Huh,” Ruby says.

“He’s just unpleasant, and ungrateful. I’ve never seen someone hate women so much, and I wanted Sam’s organs to be in awesome people, Ruby. This guy isn’t good enough to have Sam’s fucking kidney.”

“Well you can’t take it back.”

“I know…”

“I get it. I’d want to approve of everyone too. I mean it’s _Sam_. But we don’t get to choose, and even assholes get a fair shake in the system. It would be _wrong_ any other way.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah.”

“How many other people have you met?”

“Not including this guy? Four others.”

“And you liked them?”

“Yeah, they were great. I might even visit a couple of them again.”

“Four out of five isn’t so bad, is it?”

“I guess not.”

“How many left?”

“Two more.”

“Well even if they suck, more than half the ones you met were cool people. And the ones that suck? You don’t have to ever think about them or talk to them again when this is over. You can forget them and concentrate on the ones that made you glad you took this trip.”

“A psychic told me I’d be glad I took this trip by the end.”

“A what?”

“Uh… nevermind.”

“ _Right._ Anyway, don’t let some assmunch that probably wasn’t breastfed long enough ruin a trip that’s already given you positive experiences.”

Dean nods, relaxing. “You’re right. Thanks, Ruby.”

“So you saw a psychic?”

“She was at the LARPing thing the other night. She freaked me out, dude. She came right up to me and told me she was sorry about my brother.”

“What the fuck?”

“I _know._ ”

“Okay well paranormal experiences aside, it’s my turn to vent, because my new boss at work is working my _last_ nerve, Dean, I swear to God.”

Dean grins. “Fire away, I’m all ears.”

  
  


***

  
  


Dean’s starving by the time he’s showered and checked out of his hotel, and he ends up at a gyro place that reminds him of a place he likes back in Kansas. He fills up on fries and lamb meat, and his gyro is _damn_ tasty. Dean doesn’t know why more foods don’t utilize tzatziki sauce, it’s so refreshing.

It’s only noon when he’s done eating, so he spends a couple of minutes using his phone to search for places of interest. He nearly squeals with delight when he sees that there’s a place named “Classic Car Collection”, and he practically runs to his car so he can go check it out.

When Dean gets to the museum, he thinks he might be in heaven. Just about two hundred gorgeous, shiny, mostly restored classic cars, ranging from a 1922 Cadillac, to a 1924 Model T Roadster, to a 1965 Mustang Convertible, and everything in between. There’s even a section of the museum that’s a recreated gas station from the fifties. Dean spends nearly three hours in the museum, leisurely walking from car to car, taking in every detail. The cars are all obviously well loved and cared for, and Dean hopes that if he has no one to pass the Impala on to when he dies, she can go to a place like this, surrounded by rare and beautiful cars.

He buys a couple of shirts before he leaves, one black shirt with the logo for the establishment on the front, and a gray shirt with an American flag made out of red wrenches and blue sockets. He’s feeling good, but knowing where he’s headed next drags his mood some.

He feels so disappointed with Crowley. Without realizing it, Dean has already gotten used to going new places, connecting with these people that are alive because of Sam, and being on his way. With Crowley, there was no connection and there won’t be one. If he’s willing to act the way he does in front of _strangers,_ Dean doesn’t even want to imagine what he’s like to the people close to him when they’re alone. He spends the drive over trying to think of what, if anything, he’s going to say to Crowley when he picks up his suit. There has to be something. Crowley needs to understand that Sam’s kidney isn’t an obstacle, it’s a life raft.

He stops at the hotel to change into the shirt and shoes he bought yesterday. He’s definitely making sure the suit looks _perfect_ before he leaves, after the pain in the ass it was getting it. He has no idea how to tie a tie though, so that goes in the pocket of his jeans.

When he gets to the shop, Gavin is sitting with his feet up on the counter again, this time reading a newspaper. He notices Dean sooner this time, giving a fairly friendly smile and getting to his feet.

“Ah, Mr. Westchester. Let me go get your suit.”

Dean just nods dumbly, feeling oddly deflated. Crowley’s not even going to come out here? How anti-climactic. Nothing about this part of the trip has met Dean’s expectations, and he’s mad at himself for having expectations in the first place.

When Gavin brings the suit out, he has Dean try it on. The suit looks so pristine as Dean pulls it out of the garment bag, he’s afraid he’s going to tear it. Other than the Impala and Sam’s laptop, this is the most expensive thing Dean owns, and it’s the most costly piece of clothing he’s ever owned by far.

Dean steps out of the changing room when he’s ready and Gavin whistles.

“Well now, I think I just went a wee bit gay at the sight of ya’!”

Dean’s so startled he can’t help but laugh before he turns to look into the curved arrangement of floor length mirrors. Damn, he _does_ look good. The suit fits like a glove, hugs him just right, makes him look almost _suave,_ even.

“Think you could take a picture with my phone? This will shock the shit out of my family,” Dean says.

“Of course,” Gavin says, “a suit like that is meant to be _seen._ ”

Wow, Gavin is so much better with people. Perhaps this business would do better if Gavin were the face of the store and Crowley was the cranky little sewing gnome that never left the back room. Dean nods, fetching his phone and the tie from his jeans. He holds up the tie and Gavin grins.

“Not a suit and tie guy, huh?” Gavin says, taking the tie from Dean and looping it around his neck.

“Not in the slightest.”

“Well, you can spend some time watching tie tying tutorials on the internet… or you can do like I did when I was a teen.”

“Get someone else to do it?”

Gavin does a simple knot, then loosens the tie without undoing it and slips it over Dean’s head to show him. “Never untie the damn thing.”

Dean grins. “Awesome.”

Gavin puts the tie back over Dean’s head and fusses until he’s satisfied. “Alright, let’s have a look at the phone.” He raises an amused eyebrow at the case, but doesn’t comment, instead directing Dean into a few poses for photos. “Mind if I take a photo of my own?”

Dean can’t help but smirk. “Personal use?”

Gavin rolls his eyes. “Get a guy in a suit and suddenly he’s got an ego the size of Nessie.” Gavin gestures at the wall next to the changing area, where there are a few rows of photos with men in suits, taken in the shop.

Dean snorts. “Yeah, go for it.”

Gavin grabs a camera from behind the counter. “Now don’t be hurt. Dad’s got an eye for the lads sometimes, maybe he’ll see your photo and lock himself in the changing room to have a go at himself.”

Dean bursts into laughter. Crowley was a bust, but at least his son is a hoot.

Gavin takes a few photos of Dean with a fancy digital camera, then Dean’s changing out of the suit and gently placing it back in the garment bag, including the still knotted tie. When he comes back out Gavin hands him what at first glance looks like a postcard, but is actually suit care instructions, then sets a pen on the counter for a receipt Dean needs to sign. He just barely remembers not to sign it “Dean Winchester”.

“Now be sure to read that over and if you fuck up the suit anyway, you know where to go to get it fixed, yeah?” Gavin says.

“Crowley’s Tailoring Experience?”

“Good man,” Gavin says, slapping Dean on the shoulder.

Dean has no idea if he’s supposed to tip at a tailor’s, but Gavin doesn’t seem to be expecting anything, so he gives him a wave and leaves. He has a smile on his face, but he’s still more than ready to put Kearney in the rearview mirror.


	18. Chapter 18

It’s just after seven when Dean gets into Omaha, and the first thing he does is head toward a place called Dinker’s Bar. Bobby used to live out here for a while, and Dinker’s was his favorite place to eat. He’s still wearing the white dress shirt and the fancy shoes, and he changes into his usual brown work boots and his wrench flag shirt right in his car.

Dinker’s Bar is full of happy people filling their bellies, and Dean grabs a table right after someone else vacates. He orders the Haystack Burger, Bobby’s favorite. It’s pretty fucking good. Cheese, honey smoked ham, topped with a fried egg, and a side of homemade onion rings to go with it. Dean’s going to have to eat a bunch of salads or something when he gets back home.

He takes out his phone and calls Bobby’s work number, knowing no one will be there to answer. He’s not in the mood for actual conversation. After six rings, the voicemail picks up. It’s Ellen’s voice, even though she doesn’t work there, because it was decided that Bobby and Rufus both sound too unfriendly and unwelcoming on the phone and their voice on the voicemail might scare away business. When the outgoing message gives way to a beep, Dean speaks.

“Hey, Bobby. I’m at Dinker’s Bar right now, eating your favorite burger. Damn good burger, I’d bring you one if I could. Seethe in jealousy, old man, and take care.”

Dean ends the call and grins before he gets back to his meal.

  
  


***

  
  


Dean’s lying on his bed at the Omaha DoubleTree, thumbing through the photos Gavin took on his phone. He stares at the one where he’s doing his most convincing Blue Steel face, chuckling as he texts it to Jo. Barely a minute goes by before his phone is ringing.

“Hey there.”

“You clean up _good,_ ” Jo says.

“Put it back in your pants, Harvelle.”

“So, I wasn’t going to bug you about this until you came back, but since you called…”

“I didn’t call you.”

“Didn’t you? Well, guess who came in looking for you tonight?”

“The Publishers Clearing House guy?”

There’s a long pause. “Dude are you talking about Ed McMahon? He’s been dead for years, you idiot. It was Lisa. Lisa came in.”

“What the fuck? Really? Why?”

“Well you haven’t spoken in over a year, she was wondering how you were doing. She’s also eight months pregnant and hormonal as _fuck_.”

Dean can almost hear Jo shudder. Wow. A pregnant Lisa. Dean can’t even picture that. Last year this news probably would have sent Dean on a bender, but now he’s just kind of amazed.

“Hormonal, huh?”

“Yeah, she like… cried when I told her you weren’t here, and then again when I gave her a free Sprite, and she fucking _hugged me_ when I promised to pass on her well wishes.”

Dean tries his best not to laugh. Dean was never sure why, but Jo and Lisa never got along when Dean and Lisa were together. “Yeah, I’m _so_ not sorry I missed that. Sounds awkward.”

“Yes. It _was._ And don’t think I can’t hear you giggling.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re imagining things. I’m a man, Jo, I don’t giggle.”

“Whatever you say, chuckles. What’s the suit for?”

“For the hell of it, mostly.”

“Look at you, _splurging_. I never thought I’d see the day! You’ve gotta take me somewhere fancy when you come back. I’ll get all dressed up, get my hair all pretty.”

“Hmmm, what’s in it for me?”

“The company of a beautiful woman that is clearly out of your league?”

“Uh huh.”

“Come on!”

“Fine, fine. I’ll consider it.”

  
  


***

  
  


The next person on Dean’s list is a twenty year old man named Kevin Tran. Kevin has Crohn’s Disease, and has been in and out of hospitals for years with complications. His file says that there were further complications after he received his small bowel transplant, but his hospital visits have tapered off pretty dramatically since November, so he must be doing better now. Kevin doesn’t have a job for Dean to go stalking him at, but his file does come with a schedule of the summer classes he’s taking at Metropolitan Community College’s Omaha branch. Kevin is taking Art History, Intro to Carpentry, English Composition, World Regional Geography, and Film History and Appreciation. There’s no major listed, and staring at the eclectic list of classes, Dean has no idea what Kevin’s academic focus might be.

Dean decides the best time to “bump into” Kevin will be at lunch. He has a forty-five minute break between classes on Mondays and Wednesdays at a quarter past noon, and Dean’s betting he’ll be in the cafeteria.

Once he’s up, showered, and dressed, Dean stares at his meager amount of clothing, wondering what he should wear. What do students wear? Sam went to community college in Lawrence for a few years, and he never wore anything special. He dressed like he always did. Dean’s probably overthinking this.

He ends up wearing jeans, a black t-shirt, and his boots. It’s not like his wardrobe has much variety anyway.

  
  


***

  
  


Metropolitan Community College is large, Dean supposes. There are so many windows, and Dean stares at the building, wondering if all that glass ever gets cleaned. By the time he finds his way to the cafeteria, it’s just about twelve-twenty. Being that it’s summer, Dean had expected the campus to be fairly empty. It’s not though, and the cafeteria is no exception. There are plenty of students eating, talking, laughing. There’s a wide range of ages, which Dean likes because it makes him feel less out of place. He buys a sandwich, a small bag of Doritos, and a can of Coke at the food court, and then he meanders through the cafeteria, on the lookout for Kevin as he clutches his tray.

After a few minutes he finally spots him, sitting alone at a small table in the corner, eating a salad and reading from a large book of art. He looks content.

“Mind if I join you?” Dean says, approaching the table.

Kevin looks up, startled. He looks at Dean’s tray for a long moment before the confusion clears from his face and he nods. It reminds Dean so much of Sam, the way he’d get so absorbed in what he was reading, that he wasn’t quite all there if someone interrupted. Dean misses that confused, sleepy puppy look on his face.

“You an art major?” Dean asks. This is maybe a risky way to start a conversation. Dean learned a long time ago that people sitting alone in public are often alone because they _want_ to be, and those people don’t take kindly to a stranger forcing conversation on them. Kevin just smiles though, and it looks genuine.

“Not really. I’m not majoring in anything just yet.”

“Well you’re young,” Dean says, picking up his sandwich. “There’s no rush. Gotta figure out what you want.”

Kevin grins big, and Dean kind of feels like he’s missing something.

“What’d I say?”

Kevin looks at Dean for another long moment, and Dean can see the second Kevin decides Dean’s the kind of stranger he can tell personal shit to. He saw the same look on Benny’s face, and Charlie’s, and Sarah’s. Maybe Crowley too, but Dean gets the sense that Crowley would talk to a hamster if it looked like it might listen to his bitching. Dean likes to think it’s something inside them recognizing who Dean is, that on some weird molecular level, he’s almost family. Or maybe he just has a friendly face.

“When I was young,” Kevin begins, “my mom wanted me to be a doctor. My father died before I was born, and he was a doctor, so my mom wanted me to be just like him. So I was going to be a doctor. Other kids would imagine a hundred different careers for their future, but I never did, because I knew I was going to be a doctor. I worked hard in school, and I had to because I was sick a lot. I missed a lot of classes. I made sure everything I turned in was perfect, always kept up with reading, took awesome notes…” Kevin frowns. “I didn’t have much of a social life, though. Anyway, eventually I was too sick to keep up, and I was in the hospital all the time, and that sucked. I was around all these doctors, and I started to realize I would never be them. I’d fallen too far behind in high school, and I was just going to be more and more behind, I was just so sick.”

Kevin doesn’t look upset as he tells this story, he looks pleased. “I was so upset that it was never going to happen, and the funny thing is… I never wanted to be a doctor.”

Dean’s not quite expecting that. “Never?”

“Not really. But it was what my mom wanted, and I wanted to make her happy.”

“And now?”

“She’s happy I’m not in the hospital all the time. I’ve got a piece of another man’s intestine sitting in me, I’m back on solid food, and I’m here learning for fun. And it is _awesome_.” Kevin grins into his salad, then looks up, seeming surprised. “Uh… sorry. No one’s really… that all hasn’t really come up before, I guess I was bursting to say that to someone.”

Dean grins, drinking his soda. “I can see that.”

“I’m Kevin by the way.”

“Dan.”

“So, what are you studying?”

Might as well give some of the truth. “Not a student, just here to see someone.” Dean frowns a little. “Geez, I kind of wish I _was,_ though. Learning for fun doesn’t sound so bad. No big pressure to get a degree.”

“You should try it! Community college isn’t that hard to get into, especially with non-credit classes. A lot of the time you just need an SAT score or like me, I got a GED since I never got to finish high school.”

“Didn’t do so hot on my SATs…”

“Still worth looking into, right?”

Dean’s about to say something about how he could never afford it, and then he remembers that he _can_ afford it. “You know what, kid? I might have to look into this. If I can LARP, I can go to school.”

Kevin pauses, forkful of salad halfway to his mouth. Christ, Dean said that out loud, didn’t he.

“You’re a LARPer?”

“Uh… kind of. Tried it out last week.”

“In Colorado?”

What the fuck? “Uh… yeah…”

Kevin drops his fork down on his plate and digs a phone out of his pocket. “I knew you looked familiar!”

Kevin spends a few seconds tapping away on his phone then hands it over to Dean, looking gleeful. Dean looks at the phone. It’s a Youtube video titled “Moondoor Assassination Fail”, and the description reads “Banned player in our CO Springs Moondoor game decides to exact his revenge”.

For crying out loud. What happened to the no phones in Moondoor rule?! Dean presses play. Whoever filmed the video was somewhere in the middle of the room, and the video starts with a girl glaring at the screen.

“Thaddeus,” the girl whispers, “put your phone away!”

“No way, Boltar the Banned is totally about to launch into one of his speeches,” the guy, Thaddeus says. “This is my chance to finally catch one of his tantrums on video!”

The view pans over to Gerry, who’s standing off to the side, looking pissy and muttering to himself. No one else really seems to notice or care that he’s there.

“Should we tell Charlie he’s here?”

“Wait, he’s moving.”

The camera follows Gerry as he heads to the front. Thaddeus is muttering “oh shit, oh shit” as Gerry breaks into his run. Then Dean is running into the frame and knocking Gerry onto his ass, and there’s a chorus of people yelling “OHHH!” at the moment of impact before the room goes quiet. The recording picked up most of the heated conversation between Gerry and Charlie, and there’s a few mutters when Dean offers to get rid of Gerry. Then Dean is marching right past the camera, as he manhandles Gerry through the warehouse and out the door. Just before the video ends, Thaddeus can be heard saying “and you wanted me to put my phone away”.

Dean looks up at the grinning Kevin, and he knows he must be blushing. “How’d you even see this?”

“Someone in my World of Warcraft guild showed me!”

Dean looks at the video hit total. Just under ten thousand views, how embarrassing. He passes the phone back to Kevin, quietly pleading for the Earth to open up and swallow him.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Kevin says, “I thought it was badass.”

Dean groans. Here’s hoping no one he knows sees this. That’s all he needs, a comment declaring “THIS MAN’S NAME IS DEAN WINCHESTER”, or Ash finding it and showing it to everyone back home.

Mostly oblivious to Dean’s panic, Kevin continues. “So, what happened after you went outside?”

Dean grimaces. “I told him if he bothered anyone again I’d beat the shit out of him.”

“ _Awesome._ ”

Dean feels like he’s corrupting an impressionable youth, here. “Yeah… uh… I mean not that I in any way endorse threatening someone to get what you want.”

Kevin raises an eyebrow at Dean’s awkward babbling.

“So, um, World of Warcraft?” Dean says, desperate to change the subject. “Maybe I should try that out now that I’ve dipped my toe in nerd-dom.”

Kevin’s all business now. “ _Well,_ first what you have to do is go to a website that can tell you if your computer will run the game. No point in wasting money on a game your machine can’t run properly. The sites are easy to find, just Google something like ‘can my computer run this’ and you’ll end up in the right place.”

Dean already knows it will run on the laptop, since Sam had it installed. He just nods, though.

“Then go to the World of Warcraft website, because they have a free trial. There’s certain stuff you can’t do in the trial version, but you’ll get a really solid idea of what the game is like. The game is account based, so you have to log in to play… so just having the game on your computer isn’t enough, you have to pay a monthly fifteen dollar fee. Plus the cost of the base game and the expansions. It’s seventy bucks, but it’s _way_ cheaper than it used to be.”

“And how many people pay this monthly fee?”

“ _Millions_.”

“Wow, that’s quite a damn racket. Those people must be so damn rich.”

Kevin suddenly looks startled. “Oh, fuck! I’m late for my Film History quiz!”

“Oh jeez, sorry man.”

“Don’t be!” Kevin insists, scrambling to put his stuff in his bag. “It was good to talk to someone, I don’t really know anyone here. I mean I’m working on it, but uh… anyway, you let me unload my sad backstory, it was cathartic.”

Kevin pulls a paper out of his bag. “So, if you ever end up doing the Warcraft thing, come find me in the game! It’s broken up into a bunch of servers, like hundreds of them, and the one I play on is named Uther. Usually I’m online late at night, or on weekends… most of the time I’m under the name KevinSolo, but there’s a few others…” Kevin scribbles down the server name, his character name, and a few other screen names, along with a quick note on how to message people in the game. Fuck, what a sweet kid. He hands the paper to Dean and then he’s off with his paper plate, shoving salad into his mouth as he rushes out of the cafeteria. He really reminds Dean so much of Sam when he was younger.

Dean folds the paper into his wallet for safekeeping, and starts actually eating the food he bought.

  
  


***

  
  


On his way back to the hotel, Dean can’t help but be swept up in a wave of melancholy. He got what he needed here, no reason not to move on to the last city. There’s just one more person, and then Dean will be done.

He’s not sure he’s _ready_ to be done, though. He should have had a better plan than “show up and have a chat with them”, maybe he could have gone with something that lasted longer. Maybe he could have spent more time getting to know them. But now it’s almost over.

“Calm down you idiot, they’re not dead. You can see them again,” Dean mutters into his pillow. And it’s true. There’s no reason he can’t do this again. He could start this whole thing over after the last city, even. He knows where they are. He can see the impact Sam had again if he needs to.

He sighs, relaxing into the bed and rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. He just needs to calm down. Maybe he’ll go see Ruby after he’s done in Des Moines… then go home and look into taking some classes, maybe check out that World of Warcraft thing. Maybe when it’s time for Charlie’s next Moondoor game Dean can drive down and see how some of the others are doing. That sounds like a nice plan.

Although Dean will probably pass on seeing Crowley again.


	19. Chapter 19

“Hello?”

“Heyyy, Dean-o.”

Dean groans. “Ash, it’s three in the morning.”

“Oh. Whoops. Were you sleeping?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Sorry, man. I forget not everyone is a night owl, you know?”

“I guess… what’s up? Everything okay?”

“Dan Westchester is a _really_ uncreative alias.”

“Oh God. You saw the damn LARPing video.”

Ash goes quiet. “Uh… no? I was looking for Night Ranger videos on Youtube and happened to see a video of _you_ singing at a bar in Oklahoma City…”

“Oh. Damn it.”

“You sounded _great,_ man! If I didn’t think you’d cut my throat, I’d show this to everyone!”

“Go with that fear, Ash.”

“So what’s this about a LARPing video? Are you a LARPer now?”

“I’m going back to sleep.”

“Aw, come on, De—”

 

***

 

It’s noon when Dean arrives in Des Moines, and the first place he goes is Fong’s Pizza for a Crab Rangoon pizza and a side of Chinese Cheesesticks. He came here once before with Sam, and the two of them went nuts over the fusion of Chinese food with pizza. It was definitely the first time either of them had eaten a mozzarella stick that was also an egg roll. The food is just as delicious and strange as he remembered, fuck. Dean needs to come out here more often. Three or four hours isn’t _that_ far to go for pizza. Maybe he’ll drag Ruby out here next time she’s in Kansas.

After he’s done with his lunch, Dean makes his way to his next… _last_ stop on the Sam Winchester Organ Tour. It’s a bookstore named Turn the Page, workplace of Castiel Novak, the man with Sam’s heart. According to his file, Castiel suffered from “Idiopathic Dilated Cardiomyopathy”, which is apparently fancy talk for “heart disease of unknown origin”. From what Dean can tell, Castiel has been incredibly healthy post-transplant. All of his doctor visits have been routine, no real complications to speak of, and so on.

Dean feels weirdly proud of Sam’s heart for that.

He sits in his car for a while, staring down at the file. “Last one,” he mutters. Hopefully this guy is like Kevin or Charlie, and _nothing_ like Crowley. Dean would hate to end this trip on a sour note.

Turn the Page is in a small plaza, situated between an ice cream shop and a scrapbooking store. It looks fairly small from the outside, like one of those mom and pop bookstores that has a store cat and cushy chairs. Dean likes stores like that. He smiles as he pushes open the door. Definite mom and pop feel. There are rows and rows of oak shelves squeezed into the place, and the shelves are practically overflowing with used books. Even the unmanned front counter is a shelf. Behind the counter there’s a locked case embedded into the wall, with a sign declaring the contents to be rare books. There are a couple of worn, comfortable looking chairs in view, but most of the store is taken up by shelves. The sections are marked with cute, handmade signs with little drawings to symbolize each genre. A puppy holding a magnifying glass for mystery, an adorable alien in a spaceship for science fiction, a cat giving flowers to a bunny for romance. There doesn’t seem to be a non-fiction section, but Dean can’t see all of the store from where he is, small as it seemed from the outside.

Dean can see a tiny pair of legs stretched out past the children’s section, but other than that there doesn’t seem to be anyone here. He takes a few steps further in, and the legs disappear, replaced by a pair of eyes peering out from under fringed bangs.

“MISTER NOVAK, I THINK YOU GOT A CUSTOMER!” the child bellows.

There’s a crash from somewhere in the back, then the sound of a door opening, and for some reason Dean panics, grabbing a book left on one of the chairs and pretending to look through it. A tall figure emerges from the back, holding a box. Dean wants to look, but he’s going for nonchalance.

“Thank you, Audrey,” the man says, voice low and rough. Dean feels something zip through him at the sound of the man’s voice, which while not a _new_ experience for Dean, is definitely not a common occurrence. Especially these days. He waits, suddenly nervous as the man he assumes is Castiel Novak sets the box down somewhere and comes closer. “Feel free to have a seat while you read.”

Dean turns to look at him fully, and it is indeed Castiel. Same brown hair in mild disarray, same ice blue eyes, just like his picture. Only Castiel’s picture didn’t cause Dean’s brain to come to a screeching halt. Objectively, he’d thought Castiel was attractive in his file photo; he’d thought that about most of the files. But in person, Dean is feeling… _things_ he wasn’t expecting. After his brain clears slightly, Dean realizes Castiel is staring right back, jaw hanging open slightly.

“I uh… I just want to buy this book,” Dean mumbles.

Castiel looks a little surprised again but he nods, leading Dean to the counter. “Uh… that will be… six dollars.”

Dean nods frantically. “Sure, of course.”

He pulls a ten out of his wallet and sets it down on the counter while Castiel puts the book into a small black plastic bag, then hands Dean his change. Dean stuffs his change into the bag, and starts backing away, practically stumbling over his own feet and out of the store, maintaining _intense_ eye contact with Castiel the entire time until he’s finally outside. He bolts to his car and all but flings himself into the front seat, slamming the door closed.

“What the fuck was that, you idiot?!” he yells. He slams his head on the steering wheel, letting out a groan of pain. He has no idea what the fuck just happened in there. He was nervous, and jittery, and when Castiel looked at him it felt like everything else just _vanished_. When did Dean turn into a teenager in a romance novel? _Fuck_.

After taking a moment to relax, Dean starts the Impala and drives, stopping at the first hotel he sees, just a few minutes away from the bookstore. He brings his usual stuff to his room when he’s checked in, along with the bookstore bag, and collapses onto the bed, letting out a frustrated snarl.

It’s been over fifteen minutes now, and Dean still doesn’t know what the fuck happened. He _left._ He didn’t talk to Castiel at all. Didn’t find out how Sam’s heart has changed his life, didn’t find out if he’s happy, nothing. Dean sits up to dump the plastic bag out on the bed, wondering what the hell he even bought.

“Oh _come on_.” It’s fucking Fifty Shades of Grey. Not only that, but Castiel gave him four ten dollar bills in change instead of four _one_ dollar bills.

Fucking hell.

Dean has a strong urge to floor it back to Lawrence, go back to his apartment where things make relative sense, and maybe stare at his ceiling. But he never talked to Castiel, and now he owes the man thirty-six dollars. This man who probably thinks Dean is a spastic Fifty Shades of Grey fan.

Fuck everything. Dean will go back tomorrow. For now, he’s going to hide under the fancy hotel blanket and take a nap.

 

***

 

Dean feels frazzled. Off-kilter. If he had to guess, he’d say it’s because he found himself pretty strongly attracted to Castiel. Dean’s not attracted to men all that often. He’s only been with two men in his life. Both were flings he didn’t tell anyone but Sam about, and both were back when he was in his late teens. Not to mention, Dean hasn’t felt any substantial attraction to _anyone_ in well over a year.

So... frazzled is the word. Still, Dean would like to talk to him, and give the excess money back. Return the book, because Dean doesn’t want a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey. Especially a used one. He eats cold, leftover pizza from Fong’s for a late breakfast, showers, tidies his rugged stubble, puts a small amount of pomade in his hair, and he’s headed for the bookstore by eleven, wearing his grey Hello Kitty hoodie for comfort.

 

***

 

The first thing Dean sees when he gets to the store is Castiel, sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs at the front. He’s wearing jeans and a bright yellow t-shirt with a great big bee in the center, and Dean can't help but smile at the shirt. It's so... cute. Castiel is reading a trashy looking romance novel named “Love’s Savage Secret”. He’s apparently really into the book, too, since he hasn’t noticed Dean. Dean spends a full two minutes staring at him before he finally decides he should say something.

“Uh, hey.”

Castiel’s head shoots up from the book and he stares at Dean with wide eyes, curling the book against his stomach with both arms to hide the cover as he stands.

“I uh… what can I do for you?”

“I came to pay you back. You gave me forty dollars in change yesterday.”

A faint blush forms on Castiel’s cheeks as he sets his novel on the chair, face-down. Dean’s starting to think he’s the one that left the copy of Fifty Shades of Grey there yesterday.

“Uh, yes, I’d noticed that a bit too late,” Castiel says, walking behind the counter.

“Hope you didn’t get in trouble.”

“My brother owns this store. He thought it was hysterical.” Dean furrows his eyebrows and Castiel shrugs. “I’ve learned long ago there was no use trying to understand Gabriel’s sense of humor. Thank you… for bringing the bring the money back. A lesser man might have kept it.”

“Well… um… no problem. I also wanted to return this,” Dean says, holding up the book. He passes it and the forty dollars to Castiel. “It’s not really my kind of book.”

Castiel smiles fondly at the book. “One of the worst ones I’ve ever read, actually.”

“You read it, then?”

Castiel nods. “This copy, in fact. Just finished it yesterday.”

“Well, uhh… good on you for sticking it out to the end?”

“I’m afraid I won’t be partaking in the sequels, though.”

“There’s a movie, too.”

“I won’t be partaking in that either. So… um, I guess I owe you ten dollars with the return and this forty dollars… uh.. would you like cash back or do you want to find something else to purchase?”

Dean thinks he likes the idea of sticking around to find another book. “I’ll see if I can find something else that tickles my fancy. You can get back to your savage secret,” he says, winking.

Castiel’s blush returns, and he nods. “Uh… l-let me know if you find anything.”

“Sure thing, uh…” Dean says, as if he doesn’t know Castiel’s name,

“Castiel. Novak. Um, and you are?”

“Dan Westchester,” Dean says, smiling.

An odd look passes over Castiel’s face that Dean can’t even begin to decipher, and then it passes. Charlie was right. This name doesn’t suit him at all. Too late, though.

“You don’t… look like a Dan,” Castiel says.

“Uh, yeah… I’ve been having that same thought a lot lately.”

Dean spends the next hour browsing… or at least pretending to browse the science fiction novels. Mostly he just listens to the sounds of Castiel reading. Judging by how often Dean hears a page turning, Castiel is a fairly fast reader. Every so often he lets out a snort or a chuckle, which Dean really likes the sound of. A few other customers trickle in, but none of them stay long. Some of them are selling books, some buying, and all of them know Castiel by name. Dean finds that comforting, being in some no-name little business with dedicated regulars. It reminds him of working in The Roadhouse.

When Dean finally emerges with a battered copy of Snow Crash, he starts to head for the counter, then changes his mind and plops down in the chair next to Castiel. Castiel glances at him, then quickly averts his eyes. Dean bites back a smile and opens his book.

 

 

Minutes tick by as Dean and Castiel read in relative silence. Well. Castiel reads. Dean’s not really reading. He’s having some concentration issues, but he turns a page every so often to maintain the illusion. After twenty minutes Dean feels like maybe he’s ready to attempt conversation like he came here to do.

“So, uh…”

Castiel looks over. “Yes?”

“You uh… what’s your book about?”

Castiel glances at the cover of his book, as though he’s forgotten what he was reading. “Um… there’s a woman, Jade. She’s torn between two lovers… Marcus, and Jasmine.”

Dean can’t help but be slightly more intrigued by one of the lovers being a woman.

“Jade is a florist, and Jasmine and Marcus are rivals at a big corporation, and now that they’re vying for the same woman, they really hate each other.”

Dean grins. “Who are you rooting for?”

“Jasmine, she’s much more sensitive to Jade’s needs.”

“I’ve never liked love triangles in stories.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean either someone ends up heartbroken, or one of the characters suddenly becomes a huge jerk so that it’s easier for them not to get picked. So it’s either too sad, or too dumb. Plus it’s usually a drag on the _real_ story.”

“In this case,” Castiel says, smiling, “the love triangle _is_ the story.”

“Then it’s just a drag.”

Castiel nods. “I agree there is often a great deal of contrivance in these sorts of plots.”

“Read a lot of these, then?”

Castiel stares down at the book in his lap, looking sheepish. “Perhaps. It’s an… ah… odd guilty pleasure of mine when I’m at work. Stories that are silly and forgettable, so it doesn’t matter if a customer comes in and I have to stop reading.”

“Plus there’s all the steamy sex scenes, yeah?” Dean says with a smirk.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Oh yes, quite titillating stuff.” Castiel holds up his book and starts reading out loud. “Jade panted, her emerald orbs wide with desire as she took in the sight of Marcus’ hard and throbbing love rod. She bared her firm, ample breasts to his gaze, and Marcus descended upon her, ready to consume her with his fiery passion.”

Objectively, Dean knows the writing is kind of cheesy, but the words coming out of Castiel’s mouth still have Dean’s dick twitching with interest, which is not something it’s been prone to doing these days. He surreptitiously moves his book into his lap. Suddenly he’s in seventh grade again, trying to hide a surprise boner, how embarrassing.

“Love rod, huh?” Dean says, throat suddenly so, so dry.

“The author has also used the phrases ‘love sausage’, ‘love snake’, ‘love pole’, and ‘love tunnel’,” Castiel says, unaware of Dean’s predicament.

“That’s poetry right there.”

Castiel is about to reply when Dean’s phone starts buzzing loudly in his pocket. God damn it. He pulls his phone out before the vibrations make his situation even worse, flushing slightly when Castiel smiles at his phone case.

“Uh… this is my dad, I’ll be right back.”

Castiel nods, opening his book back up.

“Hello?” Dean says, rushing outside.

“Which date is the sex date?”

“WHAT?!” Dean can see Castiel look up at him in surprise through the glass door. He grins and gives an awkward thumbs up before speaking again, lower. “What?”

“I’m going to dinner with Kate tonight. We’ve been on several dates now, and I’m wondering if there’s still a specific number…”

“Holy shit, why are you asking _me_ this?”

“Who the hell else am I supposed to ask? Rufus? _Bobby_?”

“I don’t fucking know!”

“Give me a break, Dean, I haven’t had to think about this in over thirty years.”

“Come on, you’ve been with women since then.”

“Those weren’t relationships, kid. Those were… hook ups.”

Dean shudders at the sound of his father saying the phrase “hook up”.

“I haven’t done _this_ part in a very, very long time,” John says.

Dean sighs. Okay. His father needs advice. Dean has dating experience. He can do this. “Well first of all, you’re fifty-five years old.”

“I’m fifty-three.”

“Fifty-three years old. You’re a grown, grizzled old man.”

“Is this a pep talk?”

“I’m just saying that those rules… where like there’s a certain number of dates people wait before sex, that’s all just stuff young idiots do because they think the dating world should come with an infallible road map for them to follow.”

“Oh… kay?”

“You’re a full on adult. You don’t need the dumb games and golden rules, because as a full on adult, you can just _ask_ Kate if she’s interested in getting her geriatric groove on.”

“Geriatric… I’m _fifty-three,_ Dean.”

“Okay but you get what I’m saying, right? Just ask her. Don’t go by some rule you probably learned from a _sitcom,_ talk to her.”

“Never knew you were this insightful about relationships.”

“I’m not. But I do possess a few stray nuggets of wisdom from my many failures. And from my failures I have learned that if you go to a woman expecting sex just because you’ve hit a certain number of dates, you’re going home alone.”

“Well… thanks. Things change, though. If I can make it multiple dates without scaring this woman off, you can too.”

“I have a better track record than _that,_ thanks.”

“I just mean… maybe next time you start dating someone, it’ll go the distance.”

Dean looks through the glass doors, watching Castiel read his trashy romance novel. “Yeah… maybe.”

 

***

 

Castiel smiles at Dean when he comes back into the store. “Everything alright?”

Dean plops back into his chair with a groan. “My father called to ask me for dating advice. Correction, my father called me to ask for _sex_ advice.”

“Oh, that’s…”

“Icky? Horrifying?”

“Uh… it’s nice that you two have such a close relationship?”

“We _don’t_ , though. We haven’t talked about this kind of thing since I was thirteen and he tried to give me the birds and bees talk while drunk off his ass.”

“That sounds… uncomfortable.”

“It was. Not to mention I had already learned all that shit.”

“My parents never gave me the talk… and I went to an all-boys Catholic school that gave abstinence only sexual education.”

Dean grimaces. “So… do you think babies come from the stork, then?”

“Don’t worry, one of my brothers explained some of the… finer details to me. We… I was fourteen, and he was visiting for Christmas. He was incredibly thorough, and it was excruciating, but I was very grateful. With such religious parents, certain information can be hard to come by.”

“You close with your family?”

“My family? Yes and no. My parents stopped talking to me about fifteen years ago, when I told them I was gay.”

Dean tries very, very hard not to react to that piece of information, but he can’t help but think “yay!” over Castiel’s sexuality.

“But I have two older brothers and an older sister, and they all look out for me, gay or not. I’m closest with Gabriel, I’d say. He taught me about sex, gave me a place to stay when my parents threw me out, and when I was recovering.”

“Recovering?”

Castiel pats his chest, smiling. “My heart gave out on me.” Dean stares at Castiel’s hand for longer than he means to. “I was on the transplant list, and getting sicker by the day. Then I got my new heart from a generous soul that chose to donate his organs, and I stayed with Gabriel while I was getting better. Now I live in the apartment next to his.” Castiel snorts. “Free of charge.”

“Free apartment?”

“In a great building, too. Gabriel has some… guilt issues.”

“About what?”

“When I took a turn for the worse… Gabriel wasn’t around. I’d been ill and on the transplant list for quite some time, but my condition was fairly stable. That stopped being the case, however it happened at a time when Gabriel was going through a bad breakup and had dropped completely off the map.” Castiel pauses. “You don’t mind me telling my life story, do you?”

“No, keep going,” Dean says, shaking his head.

“By the time word got to Gabriel, it was maybe two days after my transplant. He was in Amsterdam, it took days for him to get back. He was such a mess with guilt. I tried to impress upon him the fact that it was no one’s fault, that I knew he would have come sooner if he’d known, but… guilt is such an irrational animal.”

Dean nods. It sure as shit is.

“So… Gabriel stayed with me near the transplant center in Iowa City until I was able to come back here. Gabriel is… wealthy. My family has always been well-off… my parents and Michael have high ranking jobs at Sandover… but Gabriel made his money through risks, savvy, and so much luck. When I lost my job after being gone too long, Gabriel bought this space, and he hired me so I’d still have insurance, and because having my own used bookstore was something I used to talk about when we were still young. He helped me make this into the store I used to imagine. When I was well enough to live on my own, he bought out his neighbor and moved me in.”

“Wow,” Dean mutters.

“I tried to decline, of course. I’m thirty-three years old, and I can take care of myself. When I tried to turn his offers down, he seemed to take it as me rejecting _him,_ and his attempt to defeat his guilt, and so I stopped trying. Michael and Anna, my other siblings, they tell me I protest too much. I have a nice place to live, my dream job, and they think it makes Gabriel feel like a responsible adult to look after me in this way.”

Dean thinks of his father, and the months he spent looking after Dean. “Well, I think they’re right. Sounds like no one is really being hurt by your arrangement, it’s just… unorthodox. And you had _heart surgery_ , you deserve to live it up if you can.”

“It does make me feel a bit like I’m his kept man, though,” Castiel says.

Dean snorts, picking up his book. “That right there is what they call a ‘First World Problem’, Cas.”

Castiel smiles this shy, wonderful smile, and returns to his reading.

 

***

 

Dean could spend all day here, just reading next to Castiel, watching him tend to the occasional customer, sharing a friendly smile or two. But… he got Castiel’s story. He knows about Castiel’s life, knows he’s grateful for the heart, knows he’s content.

He gets in line behind the customer Castiel is attending. It’s time to buy his book and move on. He could swear he sees a flash of disappointment in Castiel’s eyes as he rings up Dean’s purchase. The book ends up being six dollars like the last one, and since Dean never got his money back Castiel owes him four dollars back.

Castiel smiles as he counts out the four dollars. “Not forty this time. Thank you for… listening to my story. You’re a good listener.”

“It was a good story,” Dean says.

“Will I… be seeing you again?”

Dean opens his mouth to say that he’s just passing through town, but that’s not what comes out. “Man’s gotta read, right?”


	20. Chapter 20

“Hello?”

“I have a problem.”

“Uh oh, what’s wrong?”

“I have a crush.”

Ruby chuckles. “Awww.”

“On a guy.”

“Woah.”

“That thinks my name is Dan.”

“Uh…”

“And is walking around with my dead brother’s heart in his body.”

“Are you serious? _Dude._ ”

“I know. _I know._ ”

“Well… is it serious?”

“I just met him!”

“Buuut…?”

“But I felt a connection. Like a spark. I don’t feel sparks these days. I haven’t felt sparks in years.”

“Ouch for Lisa.”

“ _Ruby._ ”

“Okay, okay. Maybe you could tell him that… um… about uh... “

“Oh come on, can you picture that conversation? ‘Oh hey, my name is actually Dean, that there heart you’ve got is my brother’s, and I illegally _tracked you and six other people down_ as part of a weird road trip. Wanna go for some pie?’”

“Well maybe don’t put it like _that._ ”

Dean sighs. “I’m being stupid. I barely know him. I need to just go back to Lawrence, he was my last stop.”

“Dean, if you—”

“I’m sorry, Ruby, I’ve gotta go. I um… thanks for listening, okay?”

“ _Dean_ _—_ ”

“Bye, Ruby. Talk soon.”

Dean ends the call, then presses ignore when Ruby immediately calls back. She’s probably going to leave a pretty angry voicemail.

It’s almost noon. Even with traffic, Dean can be back in his apartment by four. It’s the Fourth of July, Bobby’s probably hosing off his grill right now.

For forty-five minutes, Dean lies on the bed in his hotel room, already dressed and ready to go, staring up at the ceiling. _Just go home._

“There’s no point,” Dean mutters to the empty room, “there’s no point, you don’t even _know_ him.” He growls, grabbing his stuff and heading out of his room to go check out.

  
  


***

  
  


Dean pulls into the parking area for Turn the Page. Just to look. It’s not like Castiel will be there, it’s a Saturday, and a holiday.

Except… except the little sign on the door says “OPEN”, and the lights in the store are on. Dean’s body moves of its own accord, and he finds himself walking right into the store. Castiel is in one of the chairs, reading a book named “Her Soul’s Desire”. He’s wearing tan slacks, flip flops, and a blue button up short-sleeved shirt that’s covered in pink flamingos. It’s… strangely sexy.

Castiel looks up, startled. “Hello, Dan. Did you finish your book?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Read it in my hotel room last night. Really interesting read.”

“Hotel… you’re not from here?”

“I’m on a uh… a road trip.”

“Oh,” Castiel says, sounding… disappointed? “Have you seen or done anything interesting?” he says, glancing meaningfully at the chair next to his.

Dean sits and smiles at Castiel. “Uh… a few things. Saw a car museum in Nebraska… really liked that… and I’m pretty sure I met a psychic in Colorado. I sang karaoke at a bar… I haven’t done much I guess, but it’s been nice.”

“A psychic? That sounds pretty interesting to me. Where are you going next?”

“I don’t um… Montana, maybe. Or maybe home. I’m not sure. I took a month off of work, still have a couple weeks left.”

They stare at each other for a long moment. It’s intense, Castiel has such amazing eyes. Icy steel in color, but so, so warm and inviting. Dean can’t believe he’s sitting here thinking about a man’s fucking eyes.

“So,” Dean says, shaking himself out of his trance, “how did your book end?”

Castiel smiles. “Jasmine and Marcus got married.”

“What, really?”

“They both realized the reason they were both fighting over Jade was that they actually wanted each other.”

“Wow.”

“It was quite a surprise. These stories are often predictable, so I was pleased to be so caught off guard.” Castiel holds up his book. “This is the sequel. Jade closes up her shop and travels to Europe in search of romance.”

“Has she found it?”

That intense stare is back. Dean feels like Castiel is looking right into him… like he’s seeing things that no one should be seeing.

“Not yet,” Castiel says softly, “but she’s very close.”

Dean honestly can’t tell if there’s a hidden meaning to Castiel’s words, or if his imagination is just running amok. “So… no uh… big Fourth of July plans? Just you and a bunch of books?”

“Not this year. No good spot in my apartment complex for grilling, unfortunately. I’m supposed to meet Gabriel at the park to watch the fireworks later, though. He promised to bring burgers if I came. Apparently I don’t get out enough.”

“Worried about germs?”

“Just a bit of a homebody, I suppose. I was more social… before I got sick, but that’s not really me anymore.”

“Sounds a little lonely.”

“I like the quiet. I’d rather spend time with one or two loved ones than go out and meet new people, or as Gabriel so charmingly puts it, ‘get my dick wet’.”

“I know what you mean… I spent the last year pretty much keeping to myself. Not really in the pleasant, content way you have going, though.”

Castiel tilts his head slightly. “Oh?”

“I lost um… I had a thing happen, and I’m different now.” What is Dean doing? This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Dean hears their story, Dean leaves. That’s how this works. Dean’s not supposed to… no one needs his story. He shouldn’t be doing this.

He stands. “I should, um…”

Castiel reaches out, grabbing Dean’s wrist in a firm, but gentle grip. Dean stares at the point of contact, heart beating a little faster.

“Iowa State Fairgrounds. Nine o’clock. Come find me, I’ll save you a burger.”

“Castiel…”

“If you can. If you can’t make it… that’s okay.”

Dean nods slowly, and something in him aches as Castiel releases his wrist. “Okay, um… if I can make it.”

Castiel smiles. “Have a good afternoon, Dan.”

“You too, Castiel.”

  
  


***

  
  


Dean drives west toward Montana for over three hours before he sighs and pulls into a rest stop to growl expletives at his steering wheel for a few minutes.

“Fucking, fuck, fuck, damn it!”

He pulls out of the rest stop and starts back toward Des Moines.

  
  


***

  
  


“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Ruby’s voice is cautious. Dean is such an asshole.

“I’m sorry about earlier, I shouldn’t have hung up on you.”

“It’s okay, you don’t owe me anything.”

“Yes I do. And I’m sorry.”

“Accepted, but just so you know, I wasn’t angry.”

Dean nods, then remembers Ruby can’t see him. “Okay.”

“Did you go home?”

“No. I mean, I left… and then I came back. He invited me to watch fireworks with him. I don’t want to not show up.”

“Holy fucking shit, you have a _date._ ”

“His _brother_ is going to be there.”

“Kinky.”

“You’re no help.”

“Maybe if you spend a little more time with him… you can get a better read on how he might feel about the um… stalker thing.”

“Ugh.”

“I don’t know! I’m shit at giving advice.”

“Yes you are. I guess I should go take a shower.”

“Don’t forget to clean the pipes, big guy!”

“ _Jesus,_ Ruby!”

Ruby laughs and laughs and then ends the call.

  
  


***

  
  


It’s after nine by the time Dean actually gets to the park. It’s not exactly cool out, but he’s wearing the black Hello Kitty hoodie anyway. The sun has gone down, but there’s still plenty of light for now. He prowls through the park for over ten minutes before he finally spots Castiel. He’s sitting on a park bench, still wearing the flamingo shirt. There’s no brother in sight as far as Dean can tell. Dean watches the way Castiel glances up hopefully as someone walks by, only to slink back down with disappointment. Something forlorn and aching unfurls in Dean’s gut. The thought that he was going to just leave… that Castiel would have just kept waiting… Dean feels like he might actually throw up at the thought. He gives himself another minute to calm down and indulge the wave of self loathing, then he’s walking over to the bench.

Castiel beams when he catches sight of him. “You came.”

Dean can’t help but smile back as that ugly feeling in his belly fades. “Well… I uh, I was told there would be burgers,” he says, joining Castiel on the bench.

Castiel pouts slightly, it’s adorable. “Gabriel had to cancel.”

“Oh, that sucks. Everything okay?”

“Just some problem at his restaurant, he owns a restaurant and a nightclub in addition to the bookstore.”

“But you came here anyway?”

“I didn’t know if…” Castiel looks down at his lap, embarrassed. “I do like fireworks.”

“Me too.”

Castiel looks up at Dean again. “I like your sweatshirt.”

“It was a gift.”

“And the phone case?”

“She uh… she has a weird sense of humor.”

“A um… girlfriend?”

“ _God_ , no.”

“Oh… do you have a um… someone?” Castiel sounds adorably awkward and nervous, Dean’s so screwed.

“No, I uh… it’s been awhile for me.”

“Me too. My last boyfriend… he’s a good man, but I got so very ill, and we weren’t really… Inias left.”

“Harsh.”

“I understood. My illness, it made the relationship something it wasn’t ready to be. He attempted to reconnect a while back. I hold him no ill will for his decision, however that door was one I wasn’t interested in reopening.”

“Yeah, I—” Dean is interrupted when Castiel’s hand suddenly shoots out, catching the frisbee that was apparently about to hit Dean in the head. Castiel glares and stands, body a long graceful line as he throws the frisbee back to some embarrassed looking teenagers several yards away.

“Nice reflexes,” Dean says, eyes wide.

“That was very close. I don’t know why someone would play frisbee during such a crowded event.”

Dean looks around. It really is crowded, and loud. “Wanna get out of here?”

Castiel looks pretty surprised. “You don’t want to see the fireworks?”

“I think I’d rather get a burger with you.”

“I _am_ pretty hungry.”

“Did you drive here?”

“No.”

“You cool getting into a car with a strange man you just met?”

Castiel smiles and stands. “I’ll live on the dangerous side just this once.”

  
  


***

  
  


After a quiet but content drive, they end up at a place named “Zombie Burger + Shake Lab”. It’s… zombie themed, and so, _so_ unhealthy. The burgers are outstanding, though. Dean’s “The Walking Ched” burger is a double cheeseburger topped with onions, bacon, and macaroni and cheese, served on a bun that’s made of breaded and deep fried macaroni and cheese patties. It’s fucking _incredible,_ and Dean can feel himself marching closer to an early grave with every bite. Castiel orders a “Mushroom Apocalypse”, which turns out to be a cheeseburger with a large mushroom croquette in place of an actual burger patty. He seems pleased with it, but there’s no way it can compare to what Dean’s eating. Castiel moans around one of his bites. Maybe it _can_ compare.

“You two want to be alone?” Dean says, smirking.

“This makes me… very happy,” Castiel says cheerfully.

“I can see that. With the moaning and all.”

“What about you? What makes you moan?” Castiel’s jaw drops open and his eyes widen as he realizes what he just said. “I meant _food._ What kind of _food_ makes you moan,” he says, burying his face in his hands. “God.”

“Hey my burger is plenty moan worthy, I was just trying to keep it decent, seeing as I’m in public,” Dean says, winking. “Other than that, I’d say a slice of warm apple pie, maybe with a scoop of ice cream on top.”

“Ah… a classic.”

“I’m all about the classics. Classic pie, classic car, classic rock…”

“I’d have thought you’d be into J-Pop,” Castiel says.

“I don’t even know what that is.”

“Japanese pop music.”

“Why would I…” Dean looks down at his hoodie. “I _swear_ it was a gift.”

“You wear it so proudly.”

“I do not. I wear it with an appropriate amount of shame.”

“Mhm. It’s very fetching.”

Dean knows he’s blushing now. “It’s just sort of a… comfort thing. Kind of cheers me up.”

Castiel smiles. “I understand. I have things I wear when I want to cheer up as well.”

“Like what?”

“Bunny slippers.” Castiel says it so matter-of-factly that Dean starts laughing.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, you just said that with such a serious tone. I’m not laughing at your slippers.”

“I’m being laughed at by a man with Hello Kitty accessories.”

“This must be a real low point for you.”

Castiel’s gaze softens. “Quite the opposite.”

Shit. It’s back, that weird… electricity Dean feels when Castiel looks at him with any amount of intensity. Screw the park, Dean’s got fireworks right here.

  
  


***

  
  


Dean pulls up to the address Castiel gave him, whistling in awe. “This really _is_ a nice place.”

“It is… although a bit too in the thick of things for my tastes. When Gabriel is done feeling guilty, I’d like to move some place a bit more residential. Something with a big backyard so I can plant herbs and vegetables.” Castiel sighs happily at whatever garden he’s picturing. “But for now, I’m good with where I am.”

Dean nods. “I kind of want to do the same. But I’m also attached to my apartment, it means a lot to me.”

Or at least the ceiling does.

“Would you… um… like to come up?”

Dean’s heart beats a little faster. He’s tempted. He’s _so_ tempted. It’s bad enough that Dean essentially took Castiel on a _date_ while using a false name. Going up to his apartment has the potential to lead to… to things Dean shouldn’t be doing with someone who doesn’t know who he really is.

“I shouldn’t,” Dean says reluctantly. “I mean… it’s not that I don’t…”

“Don’t worry,” Castiel says gently, “I’m not upset.”

“Could I… maybe see you again?”

“Tomorrow is my day off… I was going to go to the Science Center and spend the afternoon watching documentaries in the IMAX theater. You could join… it’s pretty spendy, so I can pay.”

“No, don’t worry, money’s not much of an issue right now.”

Castiel smiles. “Well, they start at about noon… um… so, you’ll come? I should warn you, the seats get uncomfortable, and not everyone likes the sort of domed theater screen.”

Dean doesn’t care if the documentaries are projected onto the side of a barn in the middle of nowhere, he just wants to spend more time with Castiel. “I can’t think of any place I’d rather be.”

Castiel grins wide, opening the Impala’s door. “I will see you tomorrow, then.”

“Goodnight, Cas.”

Castiel’s smile grows even bigger. “Goodnight, Dan.”


	21. Chapter 21

Dean lies in his hotel room, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Castiel. He feels an inexplicably profound connection to the man, but is that going to survive the truth? Will it survive how _broken_ Dean still is? He wishes Sam were here to tell him what to do, but he supposes he knows what Sam would say. Sam would tell Dean that he won’t know how Castiel will react until he tells the truth. That Castiel might end things before they even begin, but how far can they really go with Dean lying? He’d probably also make some sort of joke about incest, since Dean is _related_ to Castiel’s heart.

He picks up his phone and calls Ruby.

“Yeah?”

“Is this incest?”

“What. _What_?!”

“He has Sam’s heart, isn’t that kind of incest?”

Ruby makes some sort of odd choking sound. “What is _wrong_ with you?!”

“He has Sam’s organ!”

“It’s not his _dick_!”

“Oh _God,_ Ruby.”

“You brought it up.”

“I’m going to sleep.”

“You brought it up!”

  
  


***

  
  


Dean’s staring at the pile of clothes on his hotel bed, scowling. He’s never given much of a damn about clothes, certainly not in the last year, but right now he’s wishing he had brought a better variety of things.

The entirety of his road trip wardrobe stares back at him. One gorgeous suit ensemble, one LARP costume, two Hello Kitty hoodies, two t-shirts from the car museum, two plain black t-shirts, two short sleeved plaid shirts, one white t-shirt, one leather jacket, two white button up shirts, three massive Sam shirts, a tan henley, a pile of boxers and boxer-briefs, a pair of ripped and faded jeans, and the pair of slightly less battered jeans that Dean’s been wearing every day since he left.

Nearly all of it is dirty, because Dean hasn’t done laundry in weeks. Some of this shit was already dirty when he packed it. He can’t believe this is all he brought when he took a _month_ off. He mutters a few curses and pulls on the faded and ripped jeans, and the grey hoodie. He has two hours until he’s supposed to meet Castiel. Time to go shopping.

  
  


***

  
  


Dean leaves Target with a dark red button up shirt, a moss green t-shirt, a beige t-shirt, a grey henley, a new pair of jeans, a package of socks, three pairs of boxer-briefs, a bottle of laundry detergent, and a toaster that burns Hello Kitty’s face onto the bread.

  
  


***

  
  


Even with the shopping, showering, and spending five minutes deciding what to wear (his new jeans, the green t-shirt, and his leather jacket), Dean is still over half an hour early to the science center. He sits in his car, killing time with the puzzle book he bought in Wichita.

He nearly jumps out of his fucking skin when the passenger-side door opens and Castiel slides into the Impala. “I see I’ve startled you.”

“Shut up, no you didn’t,” Dean says, embarrassed. “You um… you look nice.”

Castiel looks down at his outfit, raising an eyebrow. He’s wearing a blue button-up short-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. “Thank… thank you. You do too. New outfit?”

“Uh, no…”

Castiel smiles, reaching over and peeling off the size sticker still on the thigh of Dean’s jeans. Damn it.

“ _Okay,_ I bought everything but my jacket and shoes about ninety minutes ago. All of my clothes were either dirty, wrinkled, or inappropriate.”

Castiel’s eyebrows are raised again. “Inappropriate?”

“I mean… because they’re too fancy, or too medieval… for an afternoon in an IMAX theater watching documentaries.”

“ _Medieval_?”

“Uh… we should um… get to the theater, yeah?”

“This isn’t over, you’ve incurred my interest.”

  
  


***

  
  


Dean had a date just like this when he was sixteen… Robin. Dean took her to some sappy romantic flick, and he couldn’t pay a lick of attention because they were sharing a tub of popcorn, and their fingers kept touching. It’s the same now, tingles running through Dean at the minute amount of contact made when Castiel passes him their bag of popcorn. Dean’s vaguely aware of the various documentaries playing on the massive IMAX screen, but mostly he’s thinking about how warm Castiel’s fingers are, the vague hints of honey and strawberries Dean can smell from Castiel’s soap or shampoo, how soft Castiel’s hair looks whenever Dean glances at him out of the corner of his eye.

The seats are uncomfortably small, and Dean can’t help but have his arm pressed up against Castiel’s. He’s glad for his jacket, and the thick layer of leather separating his arm from Castiel’s. If their bare arms were touching Dean would probably have an erection by now.

By the end of the third forty-five minute documentary, Dean has learned _nothing._ He knows they watched a documentary about airplanes, one about space, and one about sharks, but he can recall absolutely nothing from any of the films.

Castiel stands, looking down at Dean. “Shall we?”

Dean nods dumbly, rising to his feet. They stop at a trash can to toss the empty popcorn bag, then meander toward the exit.

“So,” Castiel says, “which was your favorite?”

“The… um… space one?” Dean sighs. “Honestly, Cas, I was so fucking nervous I have no idea what happened in any of them.”

Castiel lets out a small, relieved huff. “Neither do I. Although I believe one of them was narrated by Patrick Stewart. I feel like I definitely was hearing his voice.”

Dean feels his tension ebb away slightly at that. He’s glad he’s not the only one that blew almost thirty bucks on tickets for films he didn’t even _watch_.

“It was still well worth the money,” Castiel adds.

There’s no fighting the blush Dean _knows_ is spreading across his face.

“So…” Castiel says, pausing in walking. Dean realizes they’re at the Impala. “My sister is picking me up here soon. I have a sibling family dinner to attend in a few hours.”

Dean nods. “So, you don’t drive, then?”

“Oh, I do. My car has been in the shop. It was… damaged.”

“Damaged how?”

“Let’s see, the headlights and all the windows were smashed with a bat, the tires were slashed, various insults were keyed into the exterior, and it was… peed on.”

“Dude, what the _fuck_?”

“Gabriel’s new girlfriend has a rather angry ex-boyfriend… I believe she left him for my brother. He came and poured all of his rage and urine into what he _thought_ was Gabriel’s car.”

“God _damn_.”

Castiel shrugs. “Gabriel is paying for the repairs and excessive detailing, plus my cab rides… it’s not so bad. He offered to buy me a new car,” Castiel says, rolling his eyes.

“Dude, _free car_.”

“I think Gabriel has spent quite enough money on me already.” Castiel glances at a dark blue Prius pulling up in front of the science center. “Ah, there’s Anna…”

“Oh, um… okay. This was… nice. Good, even.”

“Maybe you could stop by the store again this week? If you’re still here? And if… if you have the time.”

Dean has nothing but time. He nods, and Castiel smiles warmly before making his way to the Prius. Dean sighs.

He’ll tell Castiel the truth tomorrow.

  
  


***

  
  


Every day for the next six days, Dean goes into Castiel’s store.

On Monday, Dean reads some bland western novel while Castiel reads yet another trashy romance. Every so often, Castiel will snicker and tell Dean about whatever ridiculous word the author has chosen in place of penis.

  
  


***

  
  


On Tuesday, the little girl Audrey comes in with a ten dollar bill, and Dean listens with a smile while Castiel spends nearly two hours helping her pick out some books in the children’s section.

“Are you sure I can get ten books? Some of these cost five dollars!” Audrey says.

“I am,” Castiel replies. “It’s part of a secret sale that ends in… oh dear, three minutes!”

Audrey gasps. “Holy shit, we have to hurry!” Castiel laughs, and Audrey sounds horrified. “Please don’t tell my mom I swore!”

“I won’t say a word.”

  
  


***

  
  


On Wednesday, Castiel talks Dean into reading Twilight, which he finishes on Thursday.

“That was…”

“I found it strangely engaging.”

“It sure wasn’t _good._ ”

“Engaging and good don’t always walk hand in hand. There’s three more books, if you—”

Dean looks at Castiel with disgust. “No. _No_.”

“Wimp.”

“If not being a wimp means having to read three more of these, then you can call me Mr. Wimpy.”

“How about Love’s Savage Secret?”

Dean gives Castiel a long, doleful look. “ _Fine._ ”

  
  


***

  
  


On Friday, Castiel brings Dean a jar of homemade strawberry preserves.

“Jam?”

“ _Preserves,_ ” Castiel says.

“Wow, I haven’t had this stuff in ages. You made this?”

“I did.”

“Fuck, you’re an angel.”

“I’m named after an angel, actually. Angel of Thursday.”

“I’m named after my grandma,” Dean mutters.

“Danielle?”

Dean’s heart sinks. Castiel doesn’t know his name. Dean needs to tell him. He changes the subject, mentally swearing up a storm.

  
  


***

  
  


On Saturday, Dean finishes Love’s Savage Secret.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Not really, but it was still a better love story than Twilight.”

  
  


***

  
  


As Dean’s getting ready to leave, Castiel clears his throat awkwardly. “So… you’ve been at the store every day this week.”

“I um… yeah. I like it here. Should I… I can buy something?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I wanted to know if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes.”

“I’d love to.”

Castiel smiles. “Alright. My place, seven-thirty. Do you remember the address?”

Woah, woah, _woah._ Castiel’s _apartment_? “Uh… y-yeah.”

Dean can’t.

Dean _can’t_.

He’s so going.

  
  


***

  
  


Dean leaves the bookstore, and spends three hours pacing, berating himself, and repeatedly changing his clothes. He eventually settles on the jeans he bought last week and the grey henley. After staring at the mirror for ten minutes, he also shaves his face and spends several minutes applying just enough pomade to his hair to give it some life. He looks good, he thinks, like a guy someone might forgive for being a fucking lying stalker.

“You _suck,_ ” Dean mutters at his reflection.


	22. Chapter 22

Dean arrives at Castiel’s building at a quarter past seven, pulling into the guest parking area. He walks to the same apartment he dropped Castiel off at before, feeling nervous. Should he have brought something? Flowers? Fuck, he’s so in over his head. He rings the doorbell and waits, trying not to fidget.

Castiel opens the door, and he’s wearing… a pair of jeans and a grey henley.

“You look nice,” they both blurt out at the same time.

“I’m going to… change my shirt,” Castiel says, stepping aside to let Dean in.

Dean nods, looking around the apartment as Castiel walks to his bedroom. The place is spacious, clean, with big windows and lots of dark, mahogany furniture. There are a great deal of rocks around the place, on shelves, end tables and countertops. Smooth stones, jagged stones, crystals, even some large costume gems. Dean likes it.

It smells _delicious_ in here. Whatever Castiel is making, Dean can’t wait to eat it.

Castiel comes out of his room, grey henley exchanged for a moss-green polo shirt.

“I can’t believe we wore the same outfit,” Dean says, “I changed my clothes at least ten times before I came over here.”

Castiel smiles. “Thirteen for me. I was very nervous, it’s been eons since I had someone new over.”

“So… what smells like fucking heaven in here?”

“Lasagna.”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Dean hasn’t had home cooked lasagna in years, he’s about ready to propose.

“So, um… this is my home,” Castiel says, gesturing awkwardly with his entire arm.

In a way, the apartment is like Dean’s; one bedroom, one bathroom, no walls separating the kitchen and living room. But everything is _much_ bigger and nicer. Plus, Dean’s apartment has no rocks.

“It’s really nice,” Dean says.

“I’d thank you for the compliment, but since the place came furnished, a great deal of this isn’t even mine. All my ratty old furniture is gathering dust and mold in a storage unit.”

“And the rocks?”

“Oh. Those are mine. I uh… I like rocks, I suppose. I collect them sometimes, even though I know absolutely nothing about them. I just… like them.” Castiel sounds so embarrassed. “I feel like a bit of a nerd.”

Dean takes his phone out, thumbing to one of the photos of himself in his LARP costume. He holds the phone up to Castiel, who looks… amused? Dean’s not sure.

“A couple weeks ago, I attended an imaginary coronation dressed like this, and spent the night being a guard to the newly appointed queen,” Dean says, shrugging like he’s not horribly embarrassed to be sharing this.

“I was not expecting this.”

“I’m just saying… I’m a bit of a nerd too,” Dean says, winking.

Castiel bites his lower lip, cheeks just barely turning pink. “Yes… well um… it’s a very fetching ensemble on you. Um… the lasagna and garlic bread are all ready… just waiting in the oven for us. I um… there was a salad, but I was uh… a little nervous, and it got dropped.”

“Aww, and I’m such a big salad fan too,” Dean says.

Castiel looks flustered. “I might have enough ingredients left t-to…”

“Cas, Cas. I’m joking. Any salads I eat are eaten begrudgingly and with little interest.”

Castiel relaxes slightly. “Oh. Good.”

Dean plops down at the small circular table that stands between the kitchen and the living room. “Come on, now. I brought a big appetite.”

Castiel smiles and walks over to the counter. He takes a wine glass out of a cabinet and sets it on the table, and that’s when Dean notices the wine bottle.

“Uh…” Dean mutters.

Castiel pauses, hand hovering over the bottle.

“That’s not for me, is it?”

“Yes, this one is for you. I can’t really drink with all my medications.”

“Alcoholic,” Dean says, pointing awkwardly at himself.

Castiel grimaces. “Oops.” He tilts his head in that endearing way he has, and sets the wine bottle in the cabinet under the sink, then retrieves a bottle of sparkling apple cider from the fridge and another wine glass. “I like this better than wine anyway,” he says, popping the lid and filling the glasses before starting on the food. “I was just… I was told by my brothers and sister that I should have wine for you. I was nervous, and I conference called them in a panic. Gabriel made fun of me for being rusty after less than two years out of the game, Anna told me to make lasagna because she loves my lasagna, and Michael said I should have a bottle of wine.”

Castiel sets two plates and forks on the table, each plate bearing a generous portion of lasagna and two hunks of crisp, golden garlic bread.

“Well, kudos to your sister for the advice,” Dean says, “this looks incredible.”

“Let’s dig in then, shall we? I’m famished.”

For a few minutes, they eat in companionable silence. The food is fucking delicious. Warm, cheesy, seasoned just right. Dean’s getting so spoiled with all the good food he’s been eating on this trip. It’s going to be a shame when he’s back in his apartment eating hot pockets and canned pasta. He really should learn to cook. Sam used to needle him about how he had a freezer full of microwave burritos and no fresh vegetables to speak of.

Dean’s startled out of his train of thought by a beeping sound.

Castiel frowns, pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping the screen. “Oh. How stupid of me, I should have planned this a little better.”

“Something wrong?”

“No,” Castiel says, standing. “It’s just pill time.”

“Pills for everyone?”

“Not quite.” Castiel goes back to the kitchen, pulling something that looks like Sam’s old daily vitamin organizer out of one of the drawers, but larger. There’s a ton of pills inside. “It’s important to take my medications as close to the same time every day as I can. Most of these I take in the morning as well.”

Dean walks over to the sink as Castiel fills a glass with water. “So, what do you take?”

Castiel looks surprised, but he begins listing the pills, holding up an example of each one as he names them. “This one is Imuran, and this is Prograf. They’re my immunosuppressants, what I take so that I don’t reject my heart. The Prograf causes high blood pressure, so I also take this one, that’s Vasotec. I try to take them with meals, sometimes if I don’t I end up feeling sick. And this one is just a multivitamin.”

“Wow, that’s… complicated.”

“It’s really not… just took some getting used to at first. There used to be far more. Most of my dosages have been lowered in the past few months, and there are some pills I’m off altogether, like Prednisone. Anyway, the pill organizers make it easy. Instead of waking up and trying to remember how many of each I’m supposed to take, it’s all set out for me. And then I have some spares I take with me to work, just in case.” Castiel takes each of the many pills with a sip of water, then downs the entire glass. “There was an adjusting period, but it’s easy now. I know to take my medications at the same time every day, and to keep a list of them in my wallet, and I keep my phone charged for my alarm and refill reminders…”

Castiel pauses, sighing. “This is dull, isn’t it.”

“No, no,” Dean says, “I’m very interested. I mean… you had a _heart transplant,_ that’s interesting.”

The two return to their meal, but Dean’s curiosity is piqued. “So,” he says, swallowing a mouthful of garlic bread, “Do you have a lot of… restrictions? Complications?”

“Not as many as you might think. I mean… I was driving again within two months, running again within five… I get sick more, obviously. There are some foods I avoid now, like sushi, because of the bacteria risks. I have hand tremors some days… especially if I’m tired, but they’re much less noticeable now than they were when I started. I um… I have some bouts of anxiety and depression. It’s another side effect. I um… I opted not to take any antidepressants, I’m on so many other things already. It’s manageable without them at this point, but I’m… sensitive some days. Prone to crying now, when I never was before.”

Castiel takes a small bite of his bread. He looks uncomfortable.

“Are you okay?” Dean says. He wants to reach out and touch Castiel, comfort him.

“I just… I didn’t mean to be so… I don’t want to scare you away with all this. I’m on so many pills, and I have a big scar on my chest, and two weeks ago I cried after I saw a touching life insurance commercial.”

Dean shrugs. “I’m a LARPing alcoholic that spends most of his time watching pirated TV shows…”

“I… uh?”

“I’m just saying nobody’s perfect, least of all me… so you’re not scaring me because you have a bunch of prescriptions and cry at commercials.”

“An old man was reading to his grandson…” Castiel says wistfully.

“Uh huh.”

“I cried for ten minutes.”

  
  


***

  
  


Dinner gets eaten, and soon Dean finds himself on Castiel’s couch. There’s a movie playing on the TV, but the volume is very low and neither of them are paying attention to it.

“And then Gerry ran off, and I went back to the coronation. Nerdiest night of my life.”

“I don’t know, clotheslining an attacker doesn’t sound very nerdy to me.”

“He was a lanky dweeb in a _cloak_.”

“Are you going to do it again? The game, not the knocking people down.”

“I think so. I have a list of upcoming games, I might go to another sometime soon. I’ll probably tell everyone I know I’m going on a fishing trip, though.”

“No one will ever suspect you’re secretly a great big geek.”

“I’m thinking about trying out World of Warcraft, too.”

“Oh… I hear that’s a um… popular game,” Castiel says, snickering.

“Hey! I’m not going to take any lip from a guy that reads trashy romance novels and has a shelf full of Disney movies in his living room.”

Castiel glances at his entertainment shelf which is in fact stocked with many, many Disney movies. He looks back at Dean, an odd smile on his face. “No lip?”

“No lip.”

“Not even the bottom lip?”

“Not even the…” Dean slowly trails off, realizing Castiel has taken the conversation in a different direction. “I uh… I have nothing against bottom lips.”

Castiel leans closer. “And the top lip?”

Dean’s fighting to maintain eye contact and not look at Castiel’s lips. “The top lip is cool,” he mutters.

“So… you might be willing to take lip from a guy that reads trashy romance novels?”

“I think um… yeah, I think so.”

There are reasons, Dean knows he has reasons why he didn’t want to go this far yet… but most rational thought is fleeing Dean’s mind at the intensity in Castiel’s eyes, the way his tongue darts out just barely to wet his lips.

Dean leans forward, closes the space between them, and melts as his lips meet Castiel’s. Maybe it’s just the reading material Dean’s been slogging through this week, but he swears he feels a spark, swears the world is vanishing around the two of them. He groans, opening his mouth and deepening the kiss.

He loses himself in the gentle tangle of their tongues, and before he knows it he’s pressing Castiel down on the couch and crawling over him, finally breaking the kiss to mutter a choked off “fuck, Cas”.

“Dean,” Castiel mutters.

Dean freezes.

Castiel freezes.

Dean pulls back, and when he sees the panicked look on Castiel’s face, he _knows_ he didn’t mishear. Castiel just called Dean by his real name.

“I… I…”

“You’re not… no one’s supposed to know that,” Dean says slowly.

“I…”

“That’s a secret. How do you know that?”

Castiel stares up at him, hair a mess, eyes blown wide in panic, lips slightly red from the kissing. He looks as freaked out as Dean feels. More, actually. Castiel’s breath is getting a little more rapid, his eyes are watering and going a little unfocused. Shit.

“Hey,” Dean says gently, “look at me.”

Castiel’s eyes focus on Dean’s. He looks so _upset._

“You with me, Castiel?”

Castiel nods slowly.

Dean cards the fingers of one hand through Castiel’s hair. He’s not sure if it’s the right thing to do, but Castiel seems to relax almost immediately. “Alright, Cas. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m not… no one’s… you know you’re safe, right?”

Castiel nods again.

Dean’s still on top of Castiel, but he can’t bring himself to move away. “You know who I am.”

“Yes.” Castiel’s voice is thin, and weak, and Dean hates to hear it like this. “You’re Sam Winchester’s brother.”

Dean feels a shudder of grief run through him at hearing at Sam’s name, but he holds it together. He’s pretty sure Castiel needs him to hold it together. “And you know who Sam is.”

“Sam died thirteen months ago, and I have his heart.”

Dean nods. “Have you known this whole time, Cas?”

“I have.”

“ _How_?”

“There’s a process… to contact the donor’s family, but… but I didn’t do that. I was afraid to reach out and be rejected. And Gabriel is… _Gabriel_ … and he knew someone that could get the information, and it took a while… but I just wanted to know. I wanted to know where this…” Castiel moves his left hand over his heart. “Where this came from. So Gabriel contacted his friend, and I learned a few things.”

“What did you learn?”

“I uh… there were accident reports… an obituary… mentions of a civil suit settled out of court.”

Dean’s never seen Sam’s obituary, or if he has, he was too drunk to absorb the experience.

“There was a bit of information to be found about the family he left behind. A few photos, various details about your father… and you. Not much, but I… I know who you are.”

“Do you know why I’m here?”

“When I first saw you, I thought it was just an insane coincidence, but you seemed very interested in... in how I was doing.”

“Yeah.”

“And you mentioned a road trip.”

“Yeah.”

“I started thinking maybe you were here for me. You are, aren’t you.”

“Yes.”

“You did what I did… you got your hands on information you weren’t really supposed to have.”

“I know a guy.”

Castiel nods. “And you came to see what I was like.”

“There are seven of you. Um… seven people that… you’re the last one. I wanted to see what all of you were like.” Dean starts to pull back so he can sit up, but Castiel holds onto him, stops him from moving away.

“What are we like?”

Dean finds himself doing Castiel’s little head tilt. “Well… Sarah Blake is kind, and classy, and because of Sam’s lungs she can laugh this strong, beautiful laugh. Benny Lafitte is really friendly, and thanks to Sam’s liver he has a shot at seeing his baby girl grow up. Pamela Barnes is a real firecracker, and she can see because of Sam’s corneas. Charlie Bradbury is nerdy, funny, and welcoming. She can go out and conquer the world of Moondoor because of Sam’s kidney. Fergus MacLeod is an _ass,_ but he’s a great tailor, so uh I guess Sam’s other kidney gets to aid in suit alterations? I really didn’t like him. It’s hard knowing a piece of Sam is in such an asshole. Then there was Kevin Tran, he is so bright, and hopeful. He’s in college, and who knows where he’d be now if not for Sam’s small intestine.”

Dean stares down at Castiel, and his heart aches at the sight of him. “And then there’s you… gentle, funny, and you make a _damn_ good lasagna. I spend time with you, and I feel… good. I like being around you so much, and I wasn’t expecting that. There’s this _thing_ in the air when I’m around you, do you know what I mean?”

“I do,” Castiel says, voice so soft he’s almost whispering.

“Every day I promised myself I’d tell you the truth… and I kept not doing it. I didn’t want _this_ to end, so I kept with the fake name I’d been giving everyone. This stupid name I chose because I was worried I’d get found out for being a damn stalker if anyone knew my real name.”

“Dan Westchester,” Castiel says, smiling. “Not very creative.”

“I wanted something easy to remember… I’m sorry. God, I don’t know how long I would have kept… I wasn’t supposed to let things get to _here._ ” Dean gestures between them. “Not until you knew… I don’t know how long I would have kept lying.”

“If it helps, I was obviously being dishonest as well. I didn’t want to scare you away by letting you know I was… onto you.”

“At least you didn’t track me down.”

“I thought about it. Michael talked me out of it. It was about a month after the transplant, and I had to ask him because I couldn’t drive myself yet.”

Dean looks away, ashamed. “Be glad you didn’t. I was… drunk. Drunk for a long time.”

Castiel reaches out and touches Dean’s cheek, then cups it to turn Dean’s face back toward his. “It was bad, then?”

“Yeah.”

“But you made it out.”

“After a really bad nightmare and some ugly detoxing, yeah. But I still… I’m still not… I was messed up for a long time, and I’m still not what I used to be.”

“What were you?”

“Complete. Normal. Stable. Take your pick.”

“I’m not what I was either. Less social, weepy, so on.”

“I think you’re pretty cool the way you are.”

“Well, I think you’re cool too.”

Dean starts carding his fingers through Castiel’s hair again, and moves his face closer. “Got some kind of stalker fetish then?”

“I guess I must.”

“Awesome.” Dean watches Castiel’s eyes flutter closed and he brings their lips together. His nerves sing at the brief, gentle kiss. “So, you know my secret.”

“I do.”

“And you’re not… we’re okay?”

“Weren’t we both saying that we’re _not_ okay?”

Dean sighs and shakes his head fondly. “I meant are there any hard feelings?”

“There were, before this conversation started… when we were kissing.”

“You’re surprisingly immature.”

“Just looking to lighten the mood. I’m not angry with you, Dean. I think that would be a tad hypocritical of me.”

“Alright. So, now what?”

“We could start by sitting up, my leg is at a weird angle and fell asleep quite a while ago.”

Dean huffs a small laugh and pulls away so the two of them can sit up. This is so weird. Nothing is going the way he expected.

“As for what comes next, I don’t know. I know you have a life in Kansas, and I am sure you have to get back to it some time soon, and I know we have some uh… unusual baggage between us.”

“You mean my brother’s heart? That baggage?”

“I just know that I like spending time with you, and I want to get to know you better. And… if it’s okay, I’d love to know more about Sam.”

“I’m due back on the twentieth.”

“I see.”

“So I guess we have nine more days.”

“Yes.”

“That’s not much time. We’ll have to spend a lot of time together.”

Castiel smiles. “I guess we will.”

  
  


***

  
  


“You look sad again.”

They’re lying in Castiel’s bed, still fully clothed save for their shoes. The leftovers have been put away, door locked for the night. It’s not ramping up to anything, but Castiel hadn’t wanted Dean to go, and Dean hadn’t wanted to leave, so here they are. Now Dean is in this bed, feeling some of the same glumness he usually feels when he goes to bed and doesn’t see Sam’s stars.

“Tell me what you’re sad about,” Castiel says.

“I have an apartment back in Lawrence, been living there a few years. It’s nothing special, it’s not even _home_ to me, not really. But there are these glow in the dark stars on the ceiling above my bed. Sam put them there one time, thought it would be funny, and he always said my place didn’t have enough personal touches. I don’t even have a mess of rocks all over everything,” Dean says, smirking.

“I _like_ my rocks.”

“They’re pretty rocks, I swear.”

“Keep going.”

“I didn’t give two shits about the stars before… before…” Dean swallows around the lump in his throat. They’re lying a fairly respectable distance apart, but Castiel reaches over and takes Dean’s nearest hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Before he died. But then he was gone, and that was one of the ways I could still feel his presence. I’ve gotten so used to seeing them when I turn in for the night… I sort of feel like other ceilings are _wrong_.”

“You’re homesick?”

“I guess. Ceiling-sick. Sam-sick. Like I said, it’s not _home,_ but the ceiling is. Anyway, that’s why I get bummed out when I’m looking at the ceiling.”

“Oh.” Castiel reaches over, grabbing Dean’s other arm and pulling until Dean is lying on his side, facing Castiel. “Stop looking at the ceiling, then.”

Dean peers at Castiel, smiling. “This is a nice view.”

Castiel turns onto his side as well, looking back at Dean. His expression is so open and affectionate, it almost hurts to see. Dean doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve a look like that. But he doesn’t look away, and he remains staring into Castiel’s eyes until he falls asleep.


	23. Chapter 23

Dean wakes to the sound of his phone going off, and the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is Castiel glaring at him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, reaching into his jeans pocket. He glares at his phone when he fishes it out of his pocket. Why is his father calling at seven on a Sunday morning? He scrambles out of the bed, padding out to the other room as he answers the call.

“This is _not_ cool, Dad,” he hisses.

“I’m sorry, I’m… I’m freaking out.”

“What? Why? Where are you? Do I need to come home?” Damn it, John had been doing so well, sober for over a year, and now—

“No, I’m not drinking or anything, it’s not like that.”

“Oh,” Dean says, sitting on the couch. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Kate has a son. I’m supposed to meet him today.”

“Wow, that’s a pretty big step.”

John’s response is snippy. “Yes I _know that,_ Dean, thank you.” He groans. “We had this big conversation about how we’re older, and we don’t need to play games… you know, like _you_ told me to, and then she was telling me she had a teenage son that I might as well meet now. I can’t do this!”

“Dude, you’re meeting her son, not adopting him.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Dad, how old is Kate?”

“She’s forty-five.”

“Okay yeah, she’s past the usual game-playing years, she’s got a kid, she’s probably busy… maybe she doesn’t want to waste her time on someone that can’t deal with her having a kid.”

“I can deal with it.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

John sighs. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Why won’t he like you?”

“Did _you_ like me when you were fifteen?”

“No, but you were always drunk and disappearing and yelling at shit.”

John goes quiet, and Dean wants to slap himself. He’s not fully awake, he didn’t mean to be so blunt.

A full minute passes before John speaks. “You know… we’ve never really talked about the um… the f-field trip thing.”

Dean’s blood all but freezes in his veins. They don’t talk about that. _Ever._ It happened, and it’s over. It was more than ten years ago, there’s no point in bringing it up now.

“Dad… no.”

“I know it was a long time ago, but…”

“No, I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Dean, please. At least let me apologize.”

“Damn it, _no_! It’s over, it’s done with, Sam is _dead_ and I don’t want to talk about this! Ever!” Dean realizes he’s yelling and tries to calm down.

“Dean…”

“No, okay? Good luck with Kate. I’m gonna go. Just uh, don’t try to use trendy slang when you talk to him, okay? Kids hate that.”

“ _Dean_ _—_ ”

Dean ends the call, and he pulls his arm back to throw his phone when he realizes Castiel is in the room, staring. Dean lowers his arm slowly, embarrassed, and sets his phone on Castiel’s coffee table.

“What was that about?” Castiel says, frowning.

“My dad… he uh… the conversation veered off into a bad place.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Dean chews on his lower lip, considering. He doesn’t talk about this. Not with John, not with Bobby, not with Jo… even Sam knew never to bring it up. He’s silent and considering for a few moments before Castiel takes his hand, tugging gently.

“Come on, let’s go back to sleep. It’s early.”

Dean lets Castiel pull him back into the bedroom, back into the bed, even lets Castiel be the big spoon without complaint. They lie there in silence, breathing in unison. Dean can just barely feel Sam’s heart beating away against his back. It’s beating kind of fast, and Dean wonders if it’s a transplant thing, or if Castiel is just nervous.

“My mom died when I was four. It was a fire.” Castiel pulls Dean tighter against his body. “It was an electrical fire, or whatever. I remember that me, my dad, and Sammy, we were all downstairs, fell asleep watching TV. I was on the floor… my dad was on his back on the couch, and Sammy was still a baby, he was on my dad’s chest. I woke up first. The house was burning.” Dean shudders. “I don’t understand how we didn’t wake up sooner, I don’t… but… I started yelling for my dad to wake up, and when he did, he told me to take my brother outside. I remember my dad’s leather jacket was on the floor; the leather jacket I wear sometimes, you’ve seen it… I wrapped Sammy up in that, and then I ran into the yard with him. I heard my dad calling my mom’s name. Dad couldn’t get up the stairs, though. The house started falling apart, and he had to get out.”

“Dean,” Castiel mutters.

“Yeah. I don’t remember her all that well, I was so little when she died. I remember she was nice, and she sang Hey Jude to me when I was sick, or when I got hurt… and I remember all the feminine touches around the house. I mean it didn’t mean much to me then, but when I got older I thought about them and realized the nice curtains, the knitted afghan on the back of the couch… stuff like that… that was all her. My dad has a pretty masculine sense of aesthetics, it had to be her. Those touches were what made that house _home._ Anyway, that’s not really the point of the story. The point is that it destroyed my dad. He tried for a while. He tried to keep it together, found us a new place in Lawrence, worked hard at his job, all that. But by the time I was eight, my dad was a full blown alcoholic. He got fired from so many jobs that he had to take odd jobs out of the city and shit. He’d leave Lawrence for weeks at a time, and I’d be in charge.”

“You were a _child,_ ” Castiel says, appalled.

“Yep. I took good care of Sammy though, I swear. I didn’t want CPS to come sniffing around. I didn’t want what was left of my family getting split up.”

“Oh, Dean.”

“Honestly, Cas, it wasn’t too bad. I learned how to stretch money early on, and Sam always did good in school… me, not as much because once I was old enough I was picking up odd jobs so we’d have more money. For the most part it was worse when my dad _was_ home. He’d fuck up the routine we’d settled into, make a bunch of promises he wasn’t going to keep, always smelled like a dive bar’s back alley. He’d pull us out of school for the day to go to a movie, you know, get back on our good side. He’d make a damn mess of everything, and then he’d be gone again.”

It’s cathartic, getting all of this out. Especially because Dean isn’t facing Castiel and doesn’t have to see the horrified expression he’s probably wearing.

“So, there was this field trip thing for Sammy’s class. Some nature… camping thing. Fuck, I don’t remember. Point is, it was overnight, and like any field trip, it needed a parent’s signature, which was no big deal because I’d been faking my dad’s signature for half my life by then. So I signed the permission slip, I gave Sam the money he was supposed to bring to chip in, and Sam went off on Friday afternoon, and he was supposed to come back Saturday around noon. He was pretty excited to go commune with nature, and I was excited to have the house to myself for a whole day.”

Castiel nuzzles against the back of Dean’s head. It’s amazing how easy this is, being with Castiel like this. Dean forgets sometimes that he’s only known him a couple of weeks.

“How was it?”

“Lonely. Quiet. I caught up on homework and cleaned, it was pitiful.”

“No wild teenage parties?”

“Nah. Sam and I had a long standing rule about having people over. Some of the places we lived weren’t so nice, and even when they weren’t bad, we still had to worry about Dad being all drunk and embarrassing. He’d been gone for months at that point. I added to our rent money when I could, but we were still getting low, and that was usually when he showed up. Anyway, so on Saturday morning I heard the Impala pull up…”

“Your Impala?”

“Oh. Yeah, it used to be my dad’s. But he gave it to me, and he drives a big old truck now. Um, so my dad burst into the house while I was watching cartoons and eating cereal, and told me to put it away because he was taking me and Sam for breakfast. He was drunk as shit, which was awful because for one, it was _nine in the morning,_ but also he’d been fucking driving. I told him Sam wasn’t at home, he was on an overnight field trip with his class and he’d be back after lunch. My dad looked all disappointed, and he started to go into the kitchen, then he came back and asked how Sam could have gone to something like that without permission. He didn’t notice when he missed birthdays, holidays, or the dozens of _other_ field trips I signed for over the years, but somehow _this_ was important. I told him Sam had a signed permission slip, and he started getting irate, saying he didn’t sign shit. And I said ‘ _you_ didn’t sign it, but your signature is on it, and that’s good enough for the school’.”

Dean can feel himself getting angry, even with Castiel rubbing his arm soothingly and holding him close.

“Then, instead of dropping it, he got so pissed off. He was pissed I went behind his back and _circumvented his authority_. Fucking drunk logic. I yelled that he hadn’t cared about the other field trips I’d signed for, the report cards I’d signed for, so why did he care about this? He said ‘I take care of this family’, and I yelled that he didn’t, he never did, and I was the one looking after the house while he was out drinking. I said that I was the man of the house, and he was just the poor excuse for a father I needed so CPS didn’t split me and Sam up. I told him he was rent money, not a father.”

“Wow,” Castiel says, sounding almost awed.

“He grabbed me by the arm and yanked me off the couch, and he punched me in the face.”

Castiel’s grip is almost painfully tight, but Dean doesn’t complain.

“My dad was an ugly, _ugly_ drunk, but not once had he raised a hand to me or Sam. I never expected it from him. I punched him right back, as hard as I could. I was sixteen, I knew how to throw a punch. But my dad’s a big guy and sixteen ain’t full grown, and he fuckin’ went in on me. He wasn’t holding anything back. My father beat the fucking hell out of me, and I thought he was going to kill me, he wasn’t stopping. Then I heard this click, and an angry voice saying, ‘don’t you fucking move’. We both froze and looked over and there was Sam, pointing my dad’s shotgun at him.”

“Jesus, Dean.”

“It was April, so his birthday was still a few weeks off… he was eleven. An _eleven year old_ pointing a fucking shotgun at his father. My dad had enough working brain cells to realize Sammy was dead-ass serious and he moved away, told Sam to calm down and that everything was fine. Sam started screaming at him, but I have no idea what he said because I blacked out about three words in.”

“God.” Castiel sounds fucking devastated, and Dean’s starting to think he should have gone into less detail. Castiel did mention being emotional, after all.

“Hey, you okay? Should I—”

“Keep going,” Castiel says, kissing the back of Dean’s head. “Finish your story.”

“Alright. Um… when I woke up, I was still on the floor, but Sammy’d dragged my blanket and pillow out of our room. Made sure I was comfortable and all that. He was on the floor next to me, doing his homework because I was unconscious and he was a special kind of geek. When he saw that I was awake he asked if I needed to go to the hospital. I told him no. Then he told me he didn’t want to stay there anymore. So we packed up what we could carry, I got as cleaned up as I could, and we walked seven miles to where my ‘uncle’ Bobby lived. Surrogate uncle, of a sort. We told him we got evicted, and that my dad hadn’t come back. Bobby took us in, of course… when he asked about the _obvious_ beating I’d taken, I told him it was some jocks at school, that I’d hit on someone’s girlfriend and got jumped after school. I don’t know if he believed any of what we told him, but he didn’t push the issue, and that was that. We stayed at Bobby’s until we were old enough to get our own place to live. After that… I don’t know. My dad dropped in and out of our lives like he always did, and we just… we buried it. Kind of an unspoken rule, the three of us never brought that up.”

There’s never really a good time to bring up something like that as far as Dean is concerned.

“Anyway, that was what he brought up on the phone. I don’t know what the hell he was thinking. Things between us are the least shitty they’ve been since I was _eight,_ and he goes and brings up the time he beat me unconscious.”

“I can understand your anger.”

“He’s been good… in a way… since Sam died. He didn’t vanish in a cloud of whiskey vapor, he stayed. He made sure I ate, took over my job, kept my bills paid and my apartment clean… all while I was drinking myself into oblivion for months. He actually has a stable life. Steady income, new girlfriend, sober for thirteen months.” Dean rolls onto his back, looking up at Castiel’s blank ceiling. “If I’m being honest, I’m pretty bitter that it took Sammy _dying_ for him to get his shit together. If Sam hadn’t died, he’d still be in the wind. Sam never got to have a dad.” Dean closes his eyes, letting a few gathering tears fall.

“You raised him. He may not have had an active father, but he had an older brother who would do anything for him, that loved him more than anything. That’s no small thing.”

“I did, I loved him more than anything. I’d have died for Sam.”

“I’m so sorry for what you’ve lost, Dean.”

“Meeting you seven… well okay _six_ of you anyway, it’s made it easier. It’s never going to be okay that he’s gone, but knowing he improved the health of so many people… I’ll be proud of him for the rest of my life. I think… I really, truly think he’d approve.”

“Of your trip?”

Dean turns his head to face Castiel and smiles. “Of you.”

Castiel’s eyes overflow with tears, but he doesn’t look away from Dean.

“It can’t be with Sam anymore, so I can’t think of a better place...” Dean puts his hand over Castiel’s chest, feeling where Sam’s heart is pulsing away. “For this to be.”

“Shit,” Castiel mutters.

Then they’re kissing, which… maybe that’s a bit inappropriate given the conversation they were just having, but Dean doesn’t care. Dean said goodbye to appropriate the minute he opened that first folder in his apartment, and why is he thinking about _propriety_ when he could be shoving his tongue in Castiel’s mouth?

Castiel groans when Dean’s tongue joins the party, and then Dean’s being straddled, and he sits up to wrap his arms around the man in his lap.

“Is this okay?” Dean says, a little breathless. “Your heart, can you—”

Castiel chuckles. “Don’t worry. I can do… strenuous activities. Sam’s heart is very strong.”

Okay _that_ should probably be a mood killer, but it’s not, and Dean’s just relieved he doesn’t need to worry about Castiel having a heart attack on top of him.

Castiel dives back in, kissing Dean with gusto. Dean sighs happily at the frantic trail of kisses being left along his jaw and neck, enjoying the arousal simmering low in his groin. He _wants,_ and it feels amazing to want.

They both reach for the other’s pants at the same time, letting out nervous chuckles and then frantically battling their own zippers. There’s a frenzied energy of _nownownow,_ and Dean groans in relief when he finally has his jeans open, cock pulled out through the gap in the boxers. As soon Castiel has his own erection out, he pushes Dean onto his back and crawls over him, one hand holding himself up just enough so that the other hand can reach between them and draw their cocks together. He pauses, pulling his hand away so he can lick it.

Dean shudders. “Oh, fuck.”

Castiel just nods enthusiastically, moving his now wet hand back between their bodies. As soon as his hand brings their cocks back together Dean groans, reaching his own hand down to wrap around Castiel’s, and then it’s _tight,_ and warm, and perfect.

“ _Dean_.” Castiel thrusts into their hands slowly, and after a few seconds Dean sets up a counter rhythm, pushing in when Castiel is pulling back, slowly increasing the pace as Castiel brings their mouths back together.

That thing happens again, that thing where the world around Dean disappears. There’s just Dean and Castiel, kissing and thrusting, and before Dean knows it he’s feeling the sparks and tingles of an impending orgasm for the first time in over a fucking year.

“Cas,” Dean moans, pulling away from the kiss, “gonna come…”

“Good,” Castiel growls.

And that’s it for Dean. He throws his head back, outright screaming as he comes in long, agonizingly intense pulses onto his and Castiel’s hands and clothes. Castiel stares at him, mouth hanging open for a long moment before he’s burying his face in Dean’s neck, then moaning and shuddering through his own orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Castiel pants.

“Such strong language, Mr. Novak,” Dean says, voice ragged. Maybe he needs some water.

“Fuck.”

“That all you have to say?”

Castiel opens his mouth, probably to say “fuck” again, when his phone goes off. “For crying out loud.”

Dean reaches over to the nightstand so he can hand Castiel his phone. “Pill time?”

“Pill time,” Castiel mumbles.

“Hey at least it waited until we were done.”

“I suppose,” Castiel says, climbing off the bed and wiping his hand on his pants before pulling his clothes off altogether.

Dean watches him, higher brain functionings slowly going offline as he takes in the sight of Castiel naked. Castiel looks _good_ naked, and there are miles of tan skin for Dean to feast his eyes on. There’s a gorgeous ass, sculpted hip bones, but what really has Dean’s intention is the scar. There are a few scars dotted about Castiel’s chest and abdomen, and then there’s the thick, heavy scar starting from near Castiel’s collarbone and extending past his ribcage, the skin still darkened and healing, even now. Dean doesn’t know whether he wants to cry at the sight of it or trace the edges of it with his tongue. Castiel turns to go get his pills and Dean forgets about the scar long enough to watch Castiel’s ass as he grabs a dark blue robe off the back of his door. His eyes slowly drift up, and he realizes Castiel is looking at him.

“Maybe you should take a picture, it will last longer.”

“I left my phone in the living room,” Dean whines.

Castiel puts his robe on, grinning at Dean over his shoulder. “You must really be kicking yourself, then.”

Dean strips out of his soiled clothes while Castiel goes to take his pills. Dean wonders if Castiel will lend him something to wear, or if he’s going to be driving back to his hotel in come covered garments.

Castiel comes back into the room, munching on a granola bar, eyes lighting up at the sight of Dean’s naked body.

“You should take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Dean says, trying to imitate Castiel’s voice.

Castiel nods, pulling his phone out of his robe and snapping a picture of Dean before he can even hide under a blanket.

“Come on,” Dean whines, “I wasn’t even posing sexy! I’m not even _hard_.”

“Are those requirements for nude photo taking?”

“Well if someone finds that on your phone, I want to look _good_.”

“But you do look good.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Let me see.”

Castiel finishes his granola bar and sets his phone on his dresser. “Maybe later. For now, I’m going to take off my robe.”

“Yeah?”

“And wrap myself around you,” Castiel says, pulling off the robe.

“Yeah?”

“And sleep for another hour or two.”

Dean pouts, but gets under the blanket with Castiel. “Sounds like a plan.”


	24. Chapter 24

Dean wakes slowly to the unfamiliar feeling of two strong arms wrapped around his torso and an erection pressed against his ass. He wiggles slightly, grinning when Castiel’s arms tighten around him.

“You awake?” he whispers.

“No,” Castiel whispers back, gently pressing against Dean’s ass.

“Oh. Well I am, so maybe I’ll just get up, go grab a shower… let you sleep.”

Castiel grips Dean even tighter with his left arm, while his right hand drags its way lower, fingers teasing at Dean’s balls, then Dean’s dick, taking it in a firm, gentle grip and giving a few slow strokes.

“Oh, that’s good,” Dean mumbles.

“Mhmm.”

Castiel rocks his hips against Dean’s backside and it’s exciting, it’s something Dean’s never really experienced. He’s had his limited encounters with men far in the past, but they weren’t like this. No warm, lazy arousal blossoming to life, no cuddling, no waking up together. No smooth, hard dick pressing between his cheeks. Castiel rubs his thumb against the slick head of Dean’s dick and nips at the back of his neck, and Dean luxuriates in the feeling.

“Still asleep?” Dean says, groaning.

“Mhm. Shhh, better keep quiet, you’ll wake me.”

Castiel’s panting lightly, the movement of his hips growing a little faster, strokes going a little rougher. With one hand Dean has a death grip on the pillow he’s moaning into, the other hand is behind him, buried in Castiel’s soft hair.

“Keep going,” Dean begs.

Castiel’s strokes get wetter and wetter with Dean’s precome, and Dean’s letting out these pathetic little whimpers that he’s never made in his _life._ He whines when Castiel’s hand moves away, moans when he feels Castiel’s erection pushing between his thighs.

“ _Dean._ ”

“God, keep touching me. Please, please.”

Castiel thrusts between Dean’s thighs, and the hand returns to Dean’s cock. The strokes resume, and Dean sighs with relief.

“Good?” Castiel whispers against Dean’s ear.

Dean groans when Castiel’s hand tightens on the upstroke. “Good.”

Castiel strokes Dean faster. “You want this?”

“Want this, want...”

“Yeah? What do you want, Dean?”

“Fuck, fuck, want you to fuck me, Cas.”

Castiel shudders, thrusts going sloppy, hand gripping Dean just a bit tighter. “That sounds like a good idea,” Castiel says, voice rougher than ever, “but I’m not sure if I’m willing to stop this long enough to make that happen.”

Maybe that’s for the best. Dean is seconds from an orgasm, and would probably start crying if Castiel stopped now.

“Later, then. Want you to open me up, get me on my hands and knees, _Cas…_ ”

Castiel goes still, coming with an absolutely filthy sounding groan and making a mess on Dean’s thighs. He’s still twitching behind Dean when the strokes resume, and Dean jerks, cursing and thrusting into his hand until his body is overwhelmed in orgasm.

“Cas, Cas, _Cas_ …”

“Incredible,” Castiel murmurs, kissing the back of Dean’s neck.

There’s a few minutes of slow, sated silence and then Castiel is rolling Dean onto his back and smiling down at him. “I think we should shower, I have a craving for waffles. With berries. And whipped cream.”

“Ugh, and a pile of bacon.”

Castiel gives Dean a quick, chaste kiss. “Maybe some hashbrowns.”

“Alright, now I’m really hungry.”

They climb out of bed and make their way to the bathroom. Castiel has a nice, big shower, and they lose over ten minutes trading kisses under the hot spray. It’s nice, easy. Castiel washes Dean’s hair while Dean tells him about getting matching tattoos with Sam on Sam’s eighteenth birthday.

“It’s a protection symbol,” Dean says, touching the tattoo on his chest. “Uh… protection against demons and spooky monsters, not car accidents.”

“It suits you.”

“Yeah, I like to think it makes me look more badass, and for another bonus, not _once_ have I ever been possessed by a demon.”

Castiel rolls his eyes.

  
  


***

  
  


Castiel’s a full jean size smaller than Dean, so he lends him a pair of trackpants and a plain t-shirt to wear. Aside from a pair of pink panties when he was nineteen, Dean’s never worn the clothes of someone he slept with before, the intimacy of it makes him feel almost giddy.

  
  


***

  
  


They’re at Denny’s wolfing down belgian waffles, bacon, and hashbrowns when Dean’s phone buzzes loudly in his pocket.

“Your father?”

Dean fishes his phone out of his pocket and looks at the display. “Ruby. Gifter of Hello Kitty merchandise.”

Castiel gestures at Dean’s phone with his forkful of hashbrowns. “By all means.”

Dean smiles and accepts the call. “Hey.”

“Heyyy, Dean- _o_.” Ruby sounds _horrible_.

“Um… you sound drunk.”

“I am.”

“It’s _noon_.”

“It’s eleven here, actually. Don’t you feel stupid.”

“Why are you…”

“Why am I day drinking? Meg died.”

Dean feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. He’s going to be sick. “Holy fucking shit, what _happened_?! Are you okay?”

Ruby starts laughing hysterically, and Dean is so, so lost. “Naaah, I’m just kidding. I just _wish_ she was dead.”

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“ _Sorry._ I’m drunk.”

“What the fuck happened?”

Castiel is staring at his waffles, trying endearingly hard to pretend that he’s not interested.

“Okay, so I don’t think I mentioned this, but like three weeks ago there was this nasty sewage issue in my building. It was gross. Anyway, I was staying with Meg while that got taken care of, and then after ten days Meg told me I should just _stay_ -stay. So then I _did,_ I moved _all_ my stuff in, and threw out a bunch of things and I was all moved in, and you know what, everything was super cool for four whole days. And _then,_ my boss made me come in today, and I fucking _did,_ even though this place is a ghost town on Sundays, because I’m a fucking team player, Dean. And he had this whole list of shit he wanted me to do even though he wasn’t even fucking there, but I did it. I worked hard and I worked fast so I could go back home because it’s fucking Sunday. And I did awesome. I kicked ass, got everything done way faster than I expected, and my boss wasn’t answering his phone so I took that as an invitation to _go home._ So I went home, and I found Meg FUCKING MY BOSS, WEARING _MY_ NEGLIGEE.”

Ruby is screaming so loud Dean has to hold his phone away from his face. He waves awkwardly at the people at the next table that have turned to stare.

“Where are you now?”

“My _car._ ”

“Parked?”

“Don’t be a shithead.”

“Hey, I had to ask.”

“I think I got fired.”

“Because you caught your boss fucking your girlfriend? If anything—”

“I broke his nose.”

“You…” Dean sighs. “Of course you did.”

“There was a lot of screaming and crying… Lucifer was doing the crying because of his broken nose.”

“His name is Lucifer?”

“RIGHT?! Who the fuck names their kid _Lucifer_?! Anyway… so now I’m in my car in the parking lot for Meg’s building, and I’m so drunk… and Lucifer’s car is still here. I’m thinking about keying it.”

“Ruby, don’t key his car. Don’t key anyone’s car.”

“What am I supposed to do now?” Ruby mutters, and then she’s sobbing into the phone.

“I’ll come. I’ll come, and we’ll talk.”

“Where are you? Can you even…”

“Uh… I’m in Iowa. At a Denny’s. On a date.”

“Oh. God, with the heart guy? Did I interrupt time with the heart guy?”

“It’s not a big—”

“I am _so_ sorry, I’m just… I was going to deal with this, and then I got so _drunk_. I’m gonna go.”

“Ruby…”

“Talk soon.”

Ruby ends the call, and Dean tries to call her back, growling when the phone goes straight to voicemail. He lets out a long sigh, scrubbing a hand through his still-damp hair.

“Are you… leaving?” Castiel’s voice sounds so sad and vulnerable.

“I… yeah. Ruby’s kind of family, you know? And she’s having a bad time, I think she should see a friendly face.”

Castiel nods. “You should make sure she’s okay.”

“Yeah…” Dean stares down at his breakfast, appetite fleeing him at the thought of leaving Castiel. “I’ll come back, though. I’ve still got a week until I’m due back home, and Montana’s only like half a day away.”

“Well, you know where I’ll be,” Castiel says, offering a small smile.

“Yeah.”

“You should probably take me home… you have a long drive to get to.”

Dean nods, sighing. “Yeah, I’ll be getting in pretty damn late.”

  
  


***

  
  


The car ride back to Castiel’s is sad, quiet. The affectionate, easy mood from earlier is long gone. Dean’s felt this before, meeting someone he really likes and spending a weekend high on sex and talking, and that ache when it has to end. It feels stronger now, but everything with Castiel is like that, so Dean isn’t exactly surprised. They pull into the parking lot for Castiel’s building and Dean kills the engine.

“I’ll um… I’ll wash your clothes for you, if you don’t want to take them with you. The building has great facilities.”

“Sure, that’d be great.”

Castiel nods slowly. “I don’t have your phone number.”

Dean snorts. “Wow, you’re right.”

“Shall we exchange numbers?”

Dean stares at Castiel for a long time, long enough Castiel starts to look uncomfortable.

“We don’t have to.”

“You could come with me.”

“Come with you.”

“To Montana.”

“Dean, that sounds… but I have a medication schedule.”

“Don’t you have enough pills to take with you? Your alarm will work just as well in my car.”

“I have a job…”

“From what I’ve heard about your boss, he’d let you do pretty much whatever you wanted, including closing up shop for a few days.”

“But I…” Castiel blinks several times, smiling slowly. “No, that’s all of my concerns, I’m good. Let’s do it.”

“Yeah?”

“I would love more time with you.”

“ _Awesome._ ”

“I just need to pack a few things, tell Gabriel I’m running away with a handsome mechanic, and I’ll be all yours.”

“All mine, huh?”

Castiel gives him a boyish smirk and reaches for the door handle. “Think you can handle that?”

Dean opens up his door and looks back at Castiel, grinning. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”


	25. Chapter 25

“Hey, Ruby. It’s me. I’m coming to see you, and since I’m currently in sort of a uh… honeymoon stage with the ‘ _heart guy’_ , I’m bringing him along. And if you need me to stash him in a motel or something before I come find you, you’d better _pick up your phone_ and call me back. Bye.”

  
  


***

  
  


Dean’s sitting on Castiel’s bed, poking through the bag Castiel packed. Castiel’s talking to his brother next door, then they’re off to get Dean’s stuff from his hotel room, and then fourteen hours in a car together. Dean figures the trip will either cement this connection they have, or wreck it for good. At least if it goes badly, Dean and Ruby can binge on pizza and cry over their broken hearts together.

Ruby never called back, but Dean did receive a text with an address in Billings about five minutes ago.

Castiel appears in the doorway, looking… troubled.

Dean frowns. “Did he say no?”

“Um… no, it’s not that. He just wants to, um… meet you. And gauge your intentions, and something about your moral fiber.”

“Are you kidding?”

Before Castiel can answer he is _shoved_ to the side, and a shorter man with long, sandy hair and a scruffy beard bursts into the room, grinning wide.

“So you’re the stalker that came for Cassie’s physical heart and stayed for his _metaphorical_ heart. Which is… ridiculous, but kind of romantic? I mean I’m not an expert on romance, Cassie’s the one that plows through romance novels at an _alarming_ rate. So, Dean, are you here to _murder_ my baby brother?”

Dean stares at Gabriel, mouth hanging open slightly.

Gabriel smirks at Castiel. “Alright, he seems fine. You have my blessing, as long as you take this.” Gabriel holds up a can of pepper spray, stuffing it into Castiel’s bag. He gives Dean and Castiel a wave and then strolls right out of the room. A moment later Dean hears the sound of the front door closing.

“What the fuck was _that_?”

“That was actually much less painful than I was expecting,” Castiel says, looking relieved.

“The protective thing is sweet, uh… in a way. I mean any guy that gives his brother pepper spray must really care about him, right?”

Castiel frowns at his bag. “What if it goes off or something?”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. Those things are designed not to go off accidentally. Just don’t mess with it too much, that shit is horrible.”

“You’ve… been pepper sprayed?”

“It was kind of an accident?”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “You _just_ said they’re designed not to go off accidentally.”

“Okay _fine._ Sam and I were really drunk, and this girl I was seeing forgot hers at my place, and… and we were _so_ drunk, and somehow we decided it can’t be that bad, and we wanted to try it out.”

“You call _that_ an accident?”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.”

Castiel looks so very unimpressed with Dean.

“Okay, you know what? As soon as we’re out on the road, it’s _your_ turn to share an embarrassing story.”

  
  


***

  
  


Castiel checks at least five times to make sure he has a good amount of medication with him. He fills his morning and night pillboxes so that he has a week’s worth in them, and he puts a two days worth into a small ziploc bag that goes in his pocket.

“We’re not going to be gone _nine days,_ Cas,” Dean says.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “When one is on medications that prevents one’s body from attacking their heart, one must be cautious.”

“Okay yeah, that’s a fair point.”

  
  


***

  
  


They’re on the road by two, which means a probable arrival time of about four in the morning. It feels good to have someone in the passenger seat, and Castiel looks excited to be going on a trip.

“So,” Dean says, “who’s going to watch over the store? Or will it be closed?”

“Gabriel will be there. He’s usually at his nightclub, he said this will be a nice change of pace.” Castiel sighs. “I hope he doesn’t scare away any of my regulars.”

“You think he might?”

“You met him.”

“Yeah, you might be fucked.”

“Hmm… that sounds good, maybe later.”

Dean tries his best not to choke on his own tongue at that.

  
  


***

  
  


They’re passing through Sioux Falls when Dean remembers. “Hey, you owe me an embarrassing story.”

“Oh I do, do I?” Castiel huffs. “Well, let me think.”

Over a minute passes, and Dean smiles at the amount of thought Castiel is putting into this.

“Okay. When I was nineteen, I was living with Gabriel, and he had this big, noisy party that I wanted no part of. For the first hour I was in my room, trying to drown the party out with a loud folk music CD while I read. That didn’t work at all, so eventually I left my room so I could at least get some party snacks.”

“ _Yeah,_ going for the snacks! A man after my own heart,” Dean says. He grimaces and glances over at Castiel, who’s staring at him in mild horror. “Okay, that was an unfortunate choice of phrase. Please, continue your story.”

“Alright, so some of Gabriel’s friends were fawning over me. They were terribly fascinated that the wild, charismatic Gabriel could have such a serious, quiet, virginal brother. They were very eager to ‘corrupt’ me. They kept offering me alcohol, asking if I’d had my first kiss yet, things like that. I didn’t take them up on their propositions, of course, but then one of them offered me one of the brownies she’d brought for the party. They looked really good, so I took one.”

“Oh, Cas.”

“Hush. So, the brownie didn’t taste very good, but they were homemade and I didn’t want to hurt the girl’s feelings by throwing it out, so I kept eating it.”

“Cas, Cas, Cas.”

“I was almost done with it when I heard ‘Cassie, no!’ and Gabriel came running up and _slapped_ the remainder out of my hand. I was fine at first, a little giddy maybe. There were people playing a Mario racing game on the TV, and I sat on the couch and watched them. My body got more and more sluggish… and then I forgot how to move.”

“What?”

“I forgot how to move. Arms, legs, they just wouldn’t cooperate, and I didn’t know how to make them. On a logical level I knew I wasn’t paralyzed or anything, but whatever signals needed to be sent from my brain to my limbs… those weren’t happening. So I sat there, trying to will my body to _obey_ , until Gabriel came to the couch and told me to scoot over. I could still talk, and I had to tell him I couldn’t while _trying_ to look up at him. He thought it was terribly funny. He made everyone get up off the couch so he could lay me down with my head propped up. That wasn’t so bad, but then they started doing things like drawing on me with markers, and putting my hair in tiny braids, and putting stickers all over me, and posing next to me to take pictures. _That_ sucked.

Dean laughs, fighting to keep his eyes on the highway.

“Gabriel made, and still has, a photo album full of pictures of me looking increasingly ridiculous and glaring at the camera with all his dumb friends posing with me. He used to bring the album out whenever I had guys over so he could show them.”

Dean pulls the Impala into a rest stop and laughs himself to tears.

  
  


***

  
  


They don’t stop for dinner, but when Castiel’s alarm goes off at eight Dean pulls into the next rest stop he sees and gets Castiel a bottle of water and some crappy food from the caged vending machines he finds there so Castiel will have something in his stomach other than pills. Dean steals a few of Castiel’s chips and a bite of his beef jerky, and then they’re back on the highway.

Dean feels good. He loves learning new bits and pieces about Castiel, and the silences between topics are easy and unimposing. He wants to share himself with Castiel, and it feels incredible to want something like that.

By midnight Castiel is asleep, snoring faintly and kind of drooling. Dean doesn’t want to wake him, so instead of putting a tape in the deck, he just mentally plays his favorite Led Zeppelin songs over and over, smiling at the dark highway stretched out in front of him.

  
  


***

  
  


When Dean pulls into the lot for Ruby’s building, he spots her car right away. It’s a 1970 Mustang, and Dean’s never liked it because it’s bright fucking yellow with a wide black stripe down the middle. Dean doesn’t believe in yellow for any car other than a taxi.

There’s a woman standing next to the car, who Dean recognizes as Meg. Dean parks several spots away so he can decide whether or not to interrupt whatever is going on.

“We here?” Castiel mumbles sleepily. He smacks his lips for a moment, frowns, then wipes the drool off his face with his shirt.

“So _sexy,_ ” Dean says.

“I can’t control what my saliva does when I’m sleeping,” Castiel grumbles, looking out the window. Meg is standing by Ruby’s car, gesturing wildly. She didn’t seem to notice Dean pulling up, which is impressive given how noisy the Impala is. “Is she the woman in a nightgown arguing with that car?”

“Nah, that’s Meg.”

“Ah, the cheater.”

“I’m going to go… interrupt this, I guess.”

“Good luck?”

“A guy needs more than words for luck, Cas. Kiss me. Get some of that drool on me.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Maybe later.”

Dean pouts and exits the car. Right away he can hear the arguing.

“Would you just get out of this fucking car and come inside? Talk to me about this like an adult,” Meg says.

Ruby’s tired, sad sounding voice comes from inside the car. “We have _nothing_ to talk about. I’m leaving as soon as I’ve sobered up.”

“That’ll be easier to do when you stop drinking from that.”

“Fuck you! I can fucking do whatever the fuck I want!”

“Baby, I’m sorry. Things just got out of hand. You and I were getting serious, and I… we can talk to him, get your job back, and I’ll never see him again.”

“Fuck off, I’m done with Montana. _Done._ ”

“You have a life here!”

“ _Had_.”

“You’re being a fucking child right now!”

Okay, Dean can’t stand here awkwardly listening forever. He walks over to the car and Meg turns her head as he gets closer, glaring.

“Who the fuck are _you_?”

“The knight in shining armor?” Dean tries.

“Dean? Is that you? Make her go away,” Ruby says, sniffling.

Dean peers into the car. The keys are in the ignition, but Ruby is curled up in the passenger seat, cradling a bottle of Jose Cuervo. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt and a red blouse, and Dean realizes she’s still in her clothes from going to work yesterday. Her eyes are a mess of streaked mascara.

“Dean?” Meg says, confused. “As in your dead boyfriend’s brother?”

“ _Sam,_ ” Ruby growls. “His name was Sam. You _know_ his name was Sam.”

“I’m sorry. Why is Dean here?”

“He’s my secret lover. Surprise, bitch!”

“Alrighty,” Dean says, moving to the passenger side of the car. He yanks open the door and catches Ruby when she comes tumbling out. He lifts her in his arms easily, and Ruby hugs her bottle to her chest. Ruby’s not wearing any shoes and Dean doesn’t see shoes in the car, so he closes the door with his hip and starts to carry her to the Impala.

Meg stomps after them, indignant. “You can’t just _take_ her.”

“Watch me,” Dean says. He looks down at Ruby. “You need anything from the apartment?”

“Nah, my stuff’s in the trunk… the good stuff, anyway. Except… except my heels.. I don’t know where they are. Those are my favorite heels,” Ruby says, looking around like she might spot the shoes nearby.

“Ruby, come on!” Meg pleads.

Castiel exits the Impala, and Ruby grins when she sees him. “Is that the heart guy? He’s _hot_ , Dean.”

“Yeah he is,” Dean says, smirking. Ruby gets in the passenger seat, and Dean turns to Castiel. “You know how to drive stick?”

“Are you flirting with him?” Ruby says, guffawing.

“Shut up, Ruby.”

“I know how to,” Castiel says, nodding.

“Alright, cool. Follow me in her car? Keys are in the ignition.”

“Don’t crash my car, Heart Guy,” Ruby says.

“I’ll do my best,” Castiel says, shrugging.

“You can’t just fucking take off, Ruby!” Meg yells. Ruby glares at Meg and pulls the passenger side door closed without another word. Meg honestly does look heartbroken. “I don’t know either of you. What makes you think I’m just going to let you run off with her?”

“I have pepper spray,” Castiel says.

Dean tries and fails to disguise his laugh with a cough.

“I don’t know you either,” Castiel continues, shaking his head at Dean, “I don’t know if you’re a good person, or something else. What we all _do_ know is that right now Ruby is hurting, and needs to be around someone she trusts. We also know that right now, that someone isn’t you. I’m sorry.” Castiel nods at Dean and heads over to get into Ruby’s car.

“Take care of her, okay?” Meg says, voice sad and small.

“Of course,” Dean says, “Ruby is family.” He pats Meg awkwardly on the shoulder and she nods, giving one last long look at Ruby through the window and then she’s walking away, slippers slapping against the pavement as she goes.

Dean goes to the trunk, digging out the grey Hello Kitty hoodie. He passes it to Ruby once he’s in the car, and she pulls it on immediately.

“Is this clean?”

“It’s clean-ish.”

Ruby shrugs. “Good enough.”

“Alright, let’s go find a motel, I’m fucking beat.”

Ruby uncaps her bottle and takes a swig. “Then what?”

Dean shudders slightly. The smell of alcohol still makes him kind of queasy. “Then we’re going home.”

“I don’t _have_ a home.”

Dean starts up the car and pulls out of the lot, checking to make sure Castiel is following. “Kansas. You had your distance from your old life with Sam, you did the Montana thing, now you’re coming back with me.”

Ruby is silent for a while, taking the occasional drink from her bottle. “Okay, but you have to buy a bigger couch.”

Dean smiles. “Done.”


	26. Chapter 26

Half an hour later, Dean is curled up around Castiel in a motel room, with Ruby passed out in the other bed. “How would you feel about getting up in a few hours and driving Ruby’s car to Kansas?”

“Kansas? Am I going to get to see your apartment?”

“You wanna?”

“Of course.”

“Awesome. I know this hasn’t exactly gone how either of us planned, but…”

“That’s not true. My plan was to get to know you better, and I have. Getting to see where you live only furthers that plan.”

“ _My_ plan involved lots of sex and orgasms.”

“We can still have that.”

“Yeah?” Dean nibbles at the back of Castiel’s neck. “Like right now?”

“Only if you want me filming it with my phone,” Ruby says from her bed.

Dean sighs. “Sleep it is, then.”

  
  


***

  
  


At eight, Castiel’s phone goes off.

“Oh _God_ ,” Ruby groans, “why is there an alarm?!”

Dean sits up, rubbing gunk out of his eyes while Castiel rolls out of bed. “Castiel here takes a bunch of pills twice a day so he doesn’t reject Sam’s heart and die.”

“Oh,” Ruby says, eyes wide. “Well don’t I feel like an ass.”

Dean smiles at Ruby, then up at Castiel. “Think your pills can wait long enough for us to get to that McDonald’s down the road? We should get some food in you.”

“I wouldn’t call that _food,_ ” Ruby says.

Castiel chuckles. “That’s fine. We should go, though.”

Dean gets up and scoops Ruby up off her bed. She’s still clutching her bottle. “Hey kiddo,” he says, “I’m giving you two days after we get back to Kansas, then I’m cutting you off.” Ruby glares at Dean, then at her bottle, then nods. “And no self medicating until you have some breakfast.”

“Wow Dad, you’re so strict,” Ruby grumbles.

Castiel laughs at that, and they leave to get some breakfast in their stomachs.

  
  


***

  
  


They’re on the road by nine, full of breakfast sandwiches, hash browns, and a large coffee for Dean. There had been a temptation for Dean to try and make the drive all in one go, but with all the medication Castiel is taking, Dean’s not crazy about the idea of asking him to make a seventeen hour drive on four hours of sleep. Plus, Ruby smells like a distillery and Dean wants to get her into a shower and a fresh set of clothes at some point. So they decide ahead of time to start the trip now, just to put Montana in the rearview mirror, and then they’ll stop in Cheyenne so everyone can rest for real.

Dean’s glad Ruby is somewhere he can keep an eye on her, but at the same time he wishes she were sober so maybe she could drive her car and Dean could have Castiel riding with him.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming. I’m sorry I interrupted your… romantic time.”

“Don’t be. And anyway, Cas says this is a great way to learn more about me or some shit.”

“So is this like… serious?”

Dean clenches his hands on the steering wheel, feeling suddenly shy. “I uh… I like him a lot. But I just met him a couple weeks ago, so…”

“He’s driving your dead brother’s girlfriend’s car across the midwest, so he might be pretty serious about you.”

Dean smiles. “You think so?”

“Oh my God, look at you! You’re _smitten_.”

“Shut up, I’m too old for ‘smitten’.”

“You’re a smitten kitten in mittens!”

“You’re killing me.”

“Anyway, I was asking if you were serious because… I didn’t know you liked guys, and Sam told me like… _everything_.”

“Oh, uh… he knew, but… just him.”

“My first girlfriend, Casey, she wasn’t out to her parents when we were dating. One day we ran into her folks at the mall, and Casey introduced me as a ‘friend from school’. I mean I understood later, but at the time I didn’t know her parents didn’t know she was bi… so I wasn’t prepared to be referred to so dismissively. It hurt. So… if this is like… a secret? You should work that out ahead of time.”

Dean nods slowly, considering Ruby’s words. “I think Cas and I have a connection that I don’t tend to have with people. I felt it the minute I saw him in person. I know I want him in my life, and I want to know everything about him. So… I’m not going to pretend he’s a friend.”

Dean looks over at Ruby. She’s smiling wide. “Totally smitten.”

“Shut up.”

  
  


***

  
  


“I really appreciate this, Dean,” Ruby says out of the blue.

“I know, Ruby.”

“It’s just… I can’t believe you dropped everything and came for me.” Ruby’s sniffling, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of Dean’s hoodie.

“Hey. Of course I did. We’re… you know.”

“We’re what?”

“We’re family. You did the same thing for me. Your visits really helped, you know. I still don’t even… I was surprised that you did so much for me. You checked up on me, cheered me up, gave me someone to talk to, convinced my dad to go for that lawsuit… I don’t even know why you did all that when you and I were never even close.”

Ruby’s silent for over a minute, and Dean starts to worry he offended her.

“Sam asked me to.”

Dean feels his stomach do a weird flip. “What?” He glances at Ruby, but she’s staring out the window, watching the blur of scenery.

“I figure you’ve probably never really heard the details of the accident. Sam, he was… he was still conscious. We were there for… God, it must have been at least five minutes before anyone got us out of the car. I could see that asshole driver unconscious in his car, and it was mostly quiet. It wasn’t a busy road at all, you know. If only that guy had… ugh, anyway, so I was awake, and Sam was awake.”

Dean has to fight to pay attention to the road. “And he was uh… still talking?”

“Yeah. I mean he was kind of out of it and babbling. First he was asking me if I was okay, and I was, mostly. Couldn’t move, though. And he kind of chuckled. And he said he was glad I was okay, and then he said he didn’t think he was. I told him not to say shit like that, that he was fine. He was _talking._ He told me maybe I was right, but that just in case, he needed me to do something for him.”

Dean feels like his chest is going to cave in.

“He told me to make sure you were okay. He was saying how you always took such good care of him, and how he hated the thought of you having no one to look after you but your _father_ , and he just kept saying to make sure you were okay, and he kept asking me if I was hurt or not, it was pretty awful. Sam just wanted to know the people closest to him would be okay. I told him I was alright again, and I told him I would make sure you were okay. He said good, that was good to know, just in case he didn’t make it. That was the last thing Sam ever said to me.”

“Jesus, Ruby. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“It’s so hard to talk about, Dean… and I didn’t… I don’t want you thinking I only kept in touch because it was Sam’s _dying wish_ or whatever. You do matter to me. We’re family, just like you said. You’re like… my only family right now.” Ruby sniffles again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Hey, no, don’t… it’s okay. And I know you care.”

“I’ve worried a lot that I did it all wrong. I didn’t stay and look after you. I was supposed to make sure your father _wasn’t_ the only one there for you. I wanted to, but I had to go, and you ended up drunk for _months_ and I… I’m scared I let him down.”

“ _No._ You didn’t let him down. You made sure I had rent money, you kept me supplied in cool Hello Kitty gear for some reason, you lent a friendly ear. You didn’t let him down. You did the best you could.”

“I shouldn’t have left.”

“Hey. You’re coming back now.”

“Yeah…”

“It’s no one’s fault but mine that I spent all that time at the bottom of a bottle.”

“John should have stopped you.”

“Maybe. But… he did the best he could. That’s all any of us are doing. If it wasn’t for you, Dad wouldn’t have gone after that lawsuit, I wouldn’t have had the money to go on this road trip, and I wouldn’t have met Cas. So, I think you did pretty right by me, if you think about it.”

Dean glances over again, Ruby’s smiling a little.

“In that case,” Ruby says, “you’re welcome.”

  
  


***

  
  


They reach Cheyenne a little after five-thirty. Dean gets them a hotel room with two queen-sized beds, and they all bring toiletries and a change of clothes with them, ready for some downtime.

Dean collapses onto one of the beds, groaning in relief. “Okay, time to recharge. How long do we want to stay before making the rest of the trip?”

“Well, my pill alarm will go off in a few hours. I was thinking of waiting until after that, then grabbing at least eight hours of sleep,” Castiel says.

“If we left at four tomorrow morning, we’d have a few hours pretty free of traffic. I like it. Ruby?”

Ruby shrugs. “Hey, I’m not driving, whatever’s cool. Right now, though…” Ruby pops into the bathroom. “Yes! I’m taking a _bath_. Maybe you two should go out? Get some dinner? And then bring me food later?”

Dean frowns. “A drunken bath? Uh…”

Ruby rolls her eyes. “If I promise not to drink in the tub, will you go take the blue-eyed hottie out for some grub?”

“Fine, I’m game. Cas?”

“I would love to have dinner with you,” Castiel says earnestly, and Dean feels a crazy little flip in his stomach.

“Okay,” Dean says, standing and tugging Castiel toward the door. “Awesome. I’m actually pretty damn hungry.”

“Dean, wait,” Ruby says, voice serious.

He frowns. “Yeah?”

“Get me dessert too. Chocolate. _Fattening._ ”

  
  


***

  
  


After a brief internet search Dean and Castiel end up in a restaurant named 2 Doors Down, because Dean’s a big fan of places with bottomless fries, even though Castiel _wastes_ the opportunity by having a side salad instead of fries. Dean’s Barnyard Burger is sublime; Dean’s also a big fan of fried eggs on burgers, and Castiel seems very pleased with his Avocado Bacon Burger.

“I think we should get this for Ruby,” Castiel says, “it’s wonderful.”

Dean groans. “Definitely a burger for Ruby. And fries. That girl loves her fries. So, um… how are you doing with this whole thing? Long car ride alone and all that.”

Castiel finishes chewing and swallowing his bite. “Well, it’s a bit lonely, but I have the radio, and I know the ride won’t last forever.”

“That’s good.”

“Although… an advertisement for pet cremation services came on a few hours before we got here and I cried for quite some time.”

Dean grimaces, reaching across their table to take one of Castiel’s hands in his. “You’re okay, though?”

Castiel smiles. “Don’t worry. I’ve gotten pretty good at riding the mood swings out, and they’re a lot milder than they were last year.”

“Was it pretty bad?”

“It was,” Castiel says, rubbing Dean’s wrist with his thumb, “because I didn’t understand it, and I wasn’t used to it. So when things happened… like an argument with Gabriel, or bumping into an ex-boyfriend at the store… I would have these strong reactions and act on them. But now, I’m much better at recognizing what’s happening, and stopping myself from making decisions when my emotions are heightened. Uh… mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“I was maybe feeling over-emotional when I invited you out on the fourth. I was just terrified that if I let you leave without a plan to come back… I’d never see you again.”

Dean grins. “Well, I’m glad you had a mood swing, then.”

“Me too. I might have been too shy to say anything, otherwise.”

Castiel is staring into Dean’s eyes, and Dean finds himself leaning forward, across the table.

“Dean,” Castiel says gently.

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Your food is getting cold.” The little chuckle Castiel lets out fills Dean with warmth. He finds himself blushing without totally knowing why.

  
  


***

  
  


They order a California Burger for Ruby, along with fries and two orders of “Spoon Lovin’ Chocolate Cake” and head back to the hotel. There’s an odd, electric energy in the car. Dean’s not really sure what caused it, but he’s kind of wishing he’d gotten two rooms instead of just two beds. They stop at the hotel store to stock up on granola bars for Castiel, and then head to their room.

Ruby’s on her bed watching TV when they come back in, and she looks oddly surprised to see them. She stares dumbly as Dean sets her food, napkins, and some plastic utensils on the bed.

“Are there towels in the bathroom?” Castiel asks, apparently unaware of Ruby being _weird_.

“Oh, uh… yeah. Lots,” Ruby says.

Castiel nods and grabs a nightshirt and sweatpants from his things. Ruby is staring at Dean, narrowing and widening her eyes in some odd attempt at communication. Unfortunately, Ruby’s not Sam, so Dean has no idea what the hell she’s trying to tell him. Castiel goes into the bathroom, and Ruby and Dean continue staring at each other until the shower starts up.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Dean hisses.

“What’s wrong with _me_? Did you seriously go and get dinner and then come straight back here?”

“Yes?”

“Oh my God, you’re so, so dumb.”

“I’m not _dumb._ Why am I dumb?”

“Umm, I was giving you an excuse to go have some _alone time_ , you idiot.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?!”

“How about the fact that I asked you to bring me dinner when we’re in a hotel that has a restaurant _and_ room service?!”

“Is that what passes for a viable clue in Girl World?!”

Ruby opens her food and eats a french fry, moaning. “Well, thanks for the food.”

“You and I need to work on communication, Ruby.”

  
  


***

  
  


When Dean finishes his own shower, he comes out to find Castiel sitting next to Ruby on her bed. Ruby is smirking and eating her second slice of chocolate cake, and Castiel is blushing so intensely his face is practically glowing red.

He wants to ask what they were talking about, but he’s not totally sure he wants to know.

They watch TV until Castiel’s pill alarm goes off, then they go to sleep, Dean curled around Castiel, Castiel curled around a pillow, and Ruby sprawled out on her bed like a starfish.

  
  


***

  
  


Castiel’s alarm goes off in the morning, and Dean wakes, yawning and snuggling against him.

“Guess no one set an alarm for four,” Ruby says, stretching. Dean winces at the sound of her joints popping.

“Can’t believe we all slept for twelve hours,” he says.

“Mmm, yes,” Castiel says, “I feel positively slothful.” He plucks his pillbox off the nightstand, while Dean grabs a granola bar and a bottle of water for him.

While Castiel is taking his pills, Ruby hops onto Dean’s bed with a grin.

“What’re you so smirky about?” Dean says, narrowing his eyes.

“I haven’t touched my alcohol since you left for dinner last night.”

“Oh… kay?”

“ _So,_ we should take advantage of my temporary sobriety.”

“Are you flirting with me or something?”

Dean turns as Castiel chokes slightly on his water, sputtering out a laugh.

Ruby is shaking her head sadly. “So, so dumb. I’m saying I can drive to your place while Castiel rides with you, you utter moron.”

“Give me a break, I just woke up!”

Ruby reaches out and hits Dean over the back of the head. “Am I _flirting with you,_ Jesus fucking _Christ_.”

  
  


***

  
  


They check out, and after a stop at the hotel store for a few more road snacks, they’re back on the road by nine. Dean and Castiel spend the first hour talking about their favorite movies, and Dean learns Castiel got his first blow job during a special showing of Jaws at an independent theater he used to go to.

“So do sharks just get you going, or what?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Attractive men rubbing my thigh while I’m in a dark room, however…”

“You little exhibitionist.”

“We were lucky we didn’t get caught, it was _not_ an empty theater.”

“Wow, I feel like I didn’t make the most of our IMAX date. Should’ve at least put my hand on your thigh.”

“I would’ve been off like a rocket, I was _very_ tense.”

“Yep, definitely didn’t make the most of the date.”

  
  


***

  
  


After another hour, Dean finally broaches a subject he’s nervous about. Castiel is in the middle of a story about Gabriel cursing out a mall Santa for taking the last available Cinnabon sample when Dean blurts out “are you my boyfriend?”

Castiel falls silent, and Dean tries to keep his eyes on the road instead of looking over to gauge his reaction.

“I… um… what?” Castiel says.

“Aside from Sam, nobody back home knows about me swinging both ways.”

“Oh. _Oh,_ I see.”

“And, um… I want you to meet everyone. I mean maybe we won’t tell them about the dead brother’s heart thing right away, but… I just uh… what should I introduce you as? Is it too early for boyfriend?” This is so embarrassing. Life was easier for Dean when he never talked about his feelings.

“Do you want me to be your boyfriend, Dean?”

“Um… I um… yeah.”

“Well, I want that too. I think if it’s something we both want, it’s not too early. We’re grown men and all.”

“Okay, cool,” Dean says, letting out a long sigh of relief. “Well, um… congratulations on being my first boyfriend, I guess.”

“Hmm, is there a prize?”

“Nothing I can give you while I’m driving.”

“If Ruby wasn’t following us I’d have you pull over right now.”

“Damn the luck.”

“You’re sure about the boyfriend thing? I live in Des Moines… we’d probably not be able to see each other all that often.”

It’s hard talking about this sort of thing. Dean’s spent his whole life playing his cards close to his chest, but that’s never gone well for him. Most of his past girlfriends have told Dean he’s too closed off. He doesn’t want that to happen here.

“I’d rather only have you on the weekends than someone else full time,” Dean says finally. There’s a long, silent moment, then Dean hears a tiny sniffle. “Cas?”

“Damn it.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine, that was just really sweet.”

“Are you crying?”

“No. _Don’t_ look at me,” Castiel orders as Dean starts to turn his head. “This is so humiliating.”

Dean grins, reaching over and opening the glove compartment, making sure not to look at Castiel as he grabs a package of tissues and drops them in Castiel’s lap.

“Quit smirking,” Castiel grumbles.

  
  


***

  
  


They had agreed on a pee break at the five hour mark, so at a little after two, Dean pulls into a rest stop outside of Oakley, and Ruby follows.

“Alright!” Dean hollers, “stretch those legs!”

It’s not the _worst_ rest stop Dean’s ever been to, but all three of them still eagerly squirt on some of Castiel’s travel-sized hand sanitizer after using the facilities.

“So, how would you guys feel about getting dinner once we get to Lawrence?” Dean says. “It’ll probably be close to pill time.”

“That sounds good to me,” Castiel says, “Ruby?”

“Can we eat at The Roadhouse?”

Dean grimaces. “Aw, come on, Ruby.”

“Don’t be a chicken.”

“I’m not a _chicken,_ maybe I just don’t want to deal with every single person I know right after a ten hour drive?” Dean’s already told Castiel about The Roadhouse, and how everyone he’s close to either works or eats there. He also told Castiel he’d bring him there in the next few days and let him meet everyone. He definitely had no plans for that happening _tonight,_ though.

“Chicken,” Ruby says again.

“You really want his introduction to Lawrence to be me subjecting him to The Roadhouse?”

“What, he can handle it!”

“Can he? He’s already cried twice since we left Montana.”

“You know I can _hear you,_ right?” Castiel says.

“I’m just looking out for you!” Dean whines.

Castiel and Ruby look at each other, then at Dean. “Bullshit,” they both say.

Dean groans. “ _Fine._ Roadhouse it is. We’ll go straight there without even showering or resting first.”

“Alright, awesome!” Ruby says. “Let’s go!”

  
  


***

  
  


“They have _actually_ scared away my dates before, you know,” Dean says later, glaring at the road.

“That so?”

“They mean well. But Jo thinks she’s my big sister even though I’m four years older, Ellen is a scary protective mama bear type, Bobby is a massive grump, Ash is weird and invasive, and I don’t think my dad’s even met a gay guy before.”

“But you love them.”

“They’re family.”

“Well… I’m not afraid. If I get upset about something, then I get upset. I can’t necessarily control my sensitivity, but that doesn’t mean it controls me.”

“Well… good.”

“But if it goes badly, I do expect you to do whatever you can to cheer me up. _Sexually._ ”

Dean smirks and carefully ignores the way his dick twitches in his jeans.

  
  


***

  
  


“Maybe this is a bad idea,” Castiel says suddenly.

“What is?”

“The Roadhouse.”

“Are you joking? What happened to all that brave talk you were spouting not _two hours ago_?”

“I haven’t _showered,_ Dean.”

“None of us have.”

“I shouldn’t meet them while I’m unkempt.”

“Cas, they’re not gonna care. You’ll probably fit in better fresh off the road and a little cranky.”

“I’m just… what if they don’t approve?”

“Cas, I’m thirty-one, I don’t need their _approval_.”

“Maybe I do, though.”

Dean reaches over, taking Castiel’s left hand in his right, squeezing it. “You don’t have to be afraid. They’re good people.”

“Okay… okay, it’s fine, I’m just freaking out. I know it’ll be fine.”

“Alright, well remember that when it’s my turn to freak out again in about twenty minutes.”

Castiel squeezes Dean’s hand back. “I will.”

 


	27. Chapter 27

They get to Lawrence at about half past seven. True to his word, Dean drives straight to The Roadhouse, Ruby right behind him.

“Okay,” he says, killing the engine, “you ready?”

“Not even remotely.”

“Awesome. Hey,” Dean says, gentling his voice. “C’mere.” Castiel looks so damn vulnerable, how can Dean resist? They unbuckle their seat belts and lean toward each other, both sighing in relief when their lips meet. The kiss is firm, simple, and Dean means for it to be quick, but he can’t help but open his mouth to lick at Castiel’s lips. Castiel groans, one hand moving to the back of Dean’s head... Then there’s a hard knock on the window and Castiel lets out a less happy groan. They pull apart and exit the car, Dean glaring at Ruby.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m hungry, nervous, and I don’t want to go in there without you.”

Dean’s confused. “Why are you nervous?”

“They were so good to me when Sam brought me around… treated me like one of you.”

Dean frowns. “You didn’t say goodbye.”

Ruby shakes her head. “I told your dad, told you, told my old boss. That was it. I just… I want to get this over with, in case… in case they don’t…”

“What, forgive you? Hey, they forgave me after I didn’t talk to anyone for months. They’re forgiving people. Come on, let’s do this. You ready?”

“Yeah…”

“Cas?”

“Still not,” Castiel mumbles

“Great, let’s go get some dinner.”

The first one to see them when they come in is Jo, who launches herself over the bar and runs straight for them. She throws herself into a hug with Ruby. “Ho-ly _shit,_ you were the last person I expected to see walk through that door!”

Dean smiles at the little sigh of relief Ruby lets out.

“Hey, Jo,” Ruby mutters.

Jo pulls back, looking at Castiel. “Who’s this?” she says, kissing Dean on the cheek. “New boyfriend?”

Ruby snorts. “Well, in a way.”

Jo gives Ruby a confused look and holds her hand out to Castiel, who shakes it. “Hi, I’m Jo!”

“I’m uh…” Castiel looks over at Dean, looking panicked.

“Sorry,” Dean says, “he’s nervous. Jo, this is Castiel Novak. He’s actually _my_ new boyfriend, not Ruby’s.”

“He’s your…” Jo looks back at Castiel. “Well _this_ is a surprise for like many, many reasons.”

“I bet.”

“My, my, this must have been _quite_ the road trip, seeing as I’m pretty sure you left all by your lonesome. What’d you bring me?”

Dean has a stuffed penguin for Jo in the car, but he’s not going to go run out and get it. “Um, I brought you Ruby?”

“And I brought my appetite!” Ruby says.

Jo sits them at a booth and goes to fetch a few menus and probably call everyone Dean knows.

“Okay,” Dean says quietly, “so for now let’s just keep a lid on… my whole uh, organ stalking thing, okay? It’s going to make them do the sympathy face and give awkward lectures, and I am _not_ up for that right now.”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” Castiel says.

Ruby shrugs. “Sure thing. Now let’s pick some food, I am so ready to eat.”

  
  


***

  
  


Castiel’s alarm goes off while they’re waiting for their orders, and he takes the baggie of pills out of his pocket.

“Pill time!” Dean and Ruby both say loudly.

“Very odd,” Castiel mutters.

“Woah, mobile pharmacy.” Ellen is at the table, carrying everyone’s orders on a large tray. She sets their food down as Castiel looks over at Dean, alarmed. Ruby grabs a french fry off her plate before it’s even on the table. “Glad to see your love of potatoes hasn’t changed, Ruby,” Ellen says, smiling.

“Never,” Ruby says, grinning up at Ellen.

“You gonna introduce me or what, kid?”

“Ellen, this is Castiel,” Dean says, “I found him on my road trip and thought I’d keep him.”

“There’s no dealing on my property, son,” Ellen says, eyeing Castiel’s pills and giving him a hard glare.

Castiel’s mouth drops open.

“Ellen, _Jesus,_ ” Dean hisses. “Those are his! Like prescriptions, he has a _condition._ ”

“There has to be a better way to put that,” Ruby says in between fries.

Ellen grimaces. “Oops.”

“You thought I brought a drug dealer in here for dinner?!”

“Well now, he had a bag of pills, and he’s all… _jittery_.”

“He’s _nervous,_ Ellen! We’re _dating,_ and he was worried about meeting my family! _You guys._ ”

This might be the first time in Dean’s life that he’s seen Ellen blush. She scrubs a hand over her face, looking fairly embarrassed.

“I am,” Castiel says, “I am very nervous.”

“Well shit,” Ellen says.

Dean sighs, gesturing to Castiel. “Ellen, this is Castiel, my boyfriend.” The word still feels strange on Dean’s tongue, but he likes it.

“Hey there, Castiel,” Ellen says awkwardly. “If we can pretend this never happened, everyone’s meal is on me tonight.”

“Take the deal,” Ruby says, reaching for another fry.

Castiel nods. “I think I am in favor of that.”

“Great,” Ellen says, “I’m just… going to get back to my orders, or die of embarrassment… something like that.” Ellen scurries away, and Ruby laughs.

“I’ve _never_ seen her get embarrassed before!”

“This is going swimmingly,” Castiel says morosely.

Dean pats Castiel on the shoulder. “Take your pills, Cas.”

  
  


***

  
  


They get a whole six minutes of eating time in before Ash seems to materialize next to their table. “Hey! Jo said you were back, and with friends!”

“Hey, Ash,” Dean says.

Ruby waves. “Hi, Ash.”

Ash beams at Ruby. “Hey, you’re back in Lawrence! For how long?”

“Uh… not sure about that.”

Castiel apparently is feeling braver, because he smiles up at Ash. “Hello, I’m Castiel.”

They shake hands, and Ash gets a confused look on his face. “Do I know you? You look familiar.”

Oh, that’s _right._ Ash made the files. Ash has seen Castiel’s face before. Dean really is as dumb as Ruby keeps saying.

“I don’t think so,” Castiel says, “I’ve never been to Kansas before.”

Ash tilts his head this and that way, probably flipping through some great big rolodex in his brain. Dean can tell when he figures it out because Ash’s eyes widen and he looks quickly over at Dean. “Dean-o? A _word_?”

Dean sighs and stands, nodding at Castiel and Ruby and following Ash to the men’s restroom. Ash checks to make sure the stalls are empty, then looks at Dean.

“ _Dude._ ”

“Okay, yeah, I forgot you would know exactly who he was.”

“You didn’t like… kidnap this guy, did you?”

“ _No,_ you _really_ need to stop jumping to the worst case scenario, Jesus.”

“So, then…?”

“Then, what?”

“How did Sam’s heart find its way back into this fine establishment?”

Dean shrugs. “He wanted to meet my loved ones or whatever. We’re a uh… thing.”

And here Dean thought Ash’s eyes couldn’t get any wider. “Can’t say I was expecting that. Like, at _all_.”

“Well I wasn’t either.”

“He doesn’t think your name is Dan Westchester, does he?”

“Nah, he knows.”

“Does he know who got you the information on where to find him?”

“Well he _didn’t_ , but you freaking out at the sight of him might have clued him in.”

“Whoops.”

“Don’t worry, he doesn’t care. Hell, he had someone do the same thing you did, last year. He just… didn’t turn it into a road trip.”

“Oh. Okay, cool.”

“Really? Just like that?”

Ash shrugs. “I’m easygoing like that. Congrats on the hot boyfriend, dude.”

Dean puffs his chest out a little, smirking. “Hell yeah, he’s hot.”

Dean comes out of the bathroom and does a double take, because _Bobby_ is at his table now. Where the fuck did Bobby come from?

“Yay, Bobby’s here,” Dean mutters. Ash just laughs and ambles over to the bar while Dean goes back to his table. “Hey, Bobby,” he says, clapping Bobby on the back in greeting. He slides back into the booth next to Castiel.

“Welcome back, kid,” Bobby says in a tone that passes for warm with him.

“Jo called you, didn’t she.”

“It’s possible. Ruby was just introducing me to your young man, here.”

“My _young man_? Who _talks_ like that? And anyway he’s older than me!”

“Mhm.”

“You gonna sit?” Dean grumbles, taking a bite of his burger. Bobby plops down next to Ruby, then reaches across the table to grab several of Dean’s fries. “Yeah, that’s right, show Cas here your bad manners right off the bat.”

“I’m too old for manners, boy. So, Castiel, what’s your trade?”

“My… trade?” Castiel says, looking mystified.

“He’s asking what your job is,” Ruby says.

“I work in a used bookstore in Des Moines. It’s my brother’s store, but I run it for him. It was a uh… gift.”

“That’s quite a gift,” Bobby says. “Either you did something real good, or he did something real bad.”

“More of the second one, though that’s mostly according to him. He took responsibility for something that wasn’t his fault, and he’s rather determined to hold on to his guilt.”

“Yeah, I know someone like that,” Bobby says, glancing at Dean.

“Can it, Bobby. Anyway, Cas’ store is cool, got a real homey feel to it. I love stores that feel personal.”

Castiel smiles and blushes. “I’m glad you like it, Dean.”

“I can tell a lot of love went into it. The store really suits you.”

Dean can feel himself getting lost in the affectionate gaze of the man sitting next to him. He starts to lean in for a kiss, only to have the moment shattered by Bobby awkwardly clearing his throat. Right. They’re at a table with Ruby and Bobby.

“I can’t decide if you two are adorable or fucking sickening,” Ruby says blandly.

“I think it’s kinda sweet,” Bobby says. “Never saw him lookin’ at Lisa like that.”

“Well Cas here has something Lisa never had.”

“Are you talking about a—”

“ _Okay,_ ” Dean says, cutting off Bobby’s reply. “New topic. I recently read Twilight. Why don’t we talk about that?”

  
  


***

  
  


The night goes pretty well. Nobody at The Roadhouse makes a big stink about the fact that Dean’s dating a man for the first time ever, and nobody makes much of an attempt to scare Castiel away, which Dean is terribly grateful for. Castiel loosens up more the longer they’re there, and he slowly stops looking like a spooked deer every time someone addresses him. Ash ends up dragging a chair over to their booth to join the conversation, and Jo and Ellen pop over in between customers. Dean relays the more interesting parts of his journey; he admits to the LARPing, talks about singing karaoke, gushes about the car museum. He talks about meeting Castiel in his bookstore, which is close enough to the truth, and Ruby talks about her life in Montana taking a nosedive.

“And Dean even interrupted his Cas time to come and drag my drunk ass out of Montana.”

“Hey, I’m still having some quality Cas time,” Dean says, slinging an arm around Castiel.

“This is my first road trip,” Castiel says, smiling.

“We’ll have to go on a long trip some time. I didn’t visit nearly enough tourist traps while I was gone.”

“I would like that very much, Dean.”

“You two are making me resent my swingin’ bachelor lifestyle,” Ash says.

Bobby gives Ash a disbelieving look. “Your what?”

“Oh Ash is quite the ladies’ man, Bobby,” Jo says, snickering.

“Since when?”

“Since always, old man!” Ash insists.

Ash and Bobby start arguing about whether or not Ash has “game” with women and Castiel leans closer to whisper in Dean’s ear.

“I like them. And you,” Castiel says, kissing Dean’s cheek. Dean smiles, holding one of Castiel’s hands under the table while Ruby smirks at them knowingly.

It’s nice to be back.

  
  


***

  
  


It’s after midnight when the three of them get to Dean’s apartment, bags of belongings in hand. Dean fishes his keys out of his pocket while Castiel and Ruby continue a conversation about Disney princesses that they started at the bar. Weirdos. He’s got his keys in the door when his father’s door opens behind him.

“Hey, kid,” John says. “Hey, Ruby.”

“Oh. Uh… hey, Dad.”

Castiel has that frightened deer look on his face again.

“Heyyy…” Ruby says, then yawns, stretching. “Well, I’m beat, so you guys talk, I’m gonna hit the hay. Or the couch.” Ruby bumps Dean out of the way and finishes unlocking the door, disappearing inside with a snicker.

“So, you’re back,” John says pointlessly.

“Yeah… Ruby was going through some shit… she’s gonna crash here for a while.”

“It’s good of you to look after her.” John has this sad bunny look on this face, and Dean can tell he wants to talk about their last conversation, which… fuck no.

“Dad, this is Castiel Novak.”

John seems to notice Castiel for the first time. “Oh, hey.”

“Hello, Mr. Winchester.”

“Oh, wow, jeez. Just call me John, really.”

“Um, alright.” Castiel looks so, so uncomfortable.

“You come in with Ruby?”

“Nah, he came in with me to get her,” Dean says. “I met him in Des Moines.”

John looks puzzled. “Is he a friend of yours, then? Or a hitchhiker,” he adds with a chuckle.

“Uh, no… we’re, you know… a thing.”

“What?”

“Like… an item. Boyfriends. I’ve had his tongue in my mouth.”

“ _Dean,_ ” Castiel chides.

John looks back and forth between Dean and Castiel. He doesn’t look angry or disgusted, but he does seem mildly stunned and uncomfortable. “I didn’t know you, um…”

“Never seemed worth mentioning,” Dean says, trying to keep the defensiveness out of his voice.

“But it is worth mentioning now.”

“Yeah.”

“And this is… serious?”

Castiel shifts uncomfortably next to Dean.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Dean says, “even introduced him to the peanut gallery.”

“And he didn’t flee back to Iowa?”

“I can’t do that, Dean is my ride.”

It takes Dean a very long moment to realize Castiel is making a joke, though a nervous one judging by the look on his face. He laughs, slapping Castiel on the back so hard he stumbles forward slightly. “He did good.”

John nods, looking thoughtful. “How long is he…” John pauses and looks at Castiel directly. “How long are you in town for?”

“Dean is taking me home on Sunday.”

John nods. “Maybe… I could take you boys out for dinner before then?”

Dean’s so surprised he almost can’t speak. He didn’t exactly expect John to spit on him and call him some colorful homophobic slur, but he definitely wasn’t expecting an invitation to dinner, either. “Uh… yeah, that sounds… sure.”

John nods, offering a small smile. He gives Dean a fairly awkward pat on the arm. “You boys have a good night,” he says, then retreats into his apartment.

Dean looks at Castiel, who’s staring back. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, though I long for the days when I wasn’t quite so… reactive.”

“Were you strong and confident before, then?”

“No,” Castiel says, sighing. “However, I did a better job of holding a conversation with new people.”

Dean opens his door and leads Castiel inside. “I can call off the hypothetical meal if you…”

“No, running away won’t get me anywhere. I have to… power through, as Gabriel says.”

“How about you guys power through to bed so mama can get some shut eye?” Ruby whines from the couch.

“Gross, don’t call yourself ‘mama’,” Dean says.

Ruby’s quiet for a moment. “Yeah, Sam always thought it was creepy too. Maybe I should stop doing that.”

“Go with that instinct, Ruby.” Dean pulls Castiel to his room, blushing when Ruby calls out “if you two fuck, do it quietly!” as he closes the door.

He flicks the light on, then takes Castiel’s bag, putting it with his next to the boxes of Sam’s stuff.

“So,” Dean says, gesturing grandly, “this is my room.”

Dean wishes his room was more interesting. Unmade queen sized bed on one side, pile of Sam’s boxed belongings on the other. His closet is a mess, which he can see because the sliding door is open. The only decorations on the walls are frayed and faded posters for classic rock bands that Dean got at a garage sale over ten years ago. The curtain over Dean’s window is old, dingy, and was there when Dean moved in. Looking at his mess of a room and thinking about Castiel’s picturesque apartment… Dean can’t help but feel sort of embarrassed.

Castiel’s not really paying attention to Dean’s sad bachelor room, though, instead he’s looking up at the the thick white stickers on the ceiling, smiling softly. When he does finally take in the rest of the room, Dean coughs awkwardly.

“Do you uh… need anything? Want a shower?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I like your room. It feels like… you in here.”

Dean looks around the room. That’s almost an insult.

“My apartment is fairly impersonal, aside from the rocks,” Castiel says.

“I dunno, this room is kind of impersonal too.”

“I don’t know if I agree, but I suppose you would know better than I.”

“It’s messy.”

Castiel smiles. “So are you.”

Dean grins. “Sweet talker.”

Castiel changes into a pair of pajama pants and a clean t-shirt, while Dean just strips down to his boxer briefs. He really should do laundry soon. He plugs both of their phones into the wall to charge, and when he looks back, Castiel is staring at him. And biting his lower lip.

“This is a good look for you,” Castiel says.

“Yeah? How good?”

Castiel puts his hands on either side of Dean’s face, and as they lock eyes, Dean can feel his pulse jump. “Ruby is in the other room,” he says softly. “I wonder, Dean, how quiet can you be?”

Probably not quiet at all, but Dean’s not going to say that. Instead he stares back, tongue darting out to wet his lips almost involuntarily. Castiel’s eyes lose their laser focus on Dean’s long enough to track the movement.

All they’re doing is staring at each other, and yet Dean can already feel his dick taking interest. His hands twitch at his sides restlessly, and then Castiel is bringing their faces closer, closer… “Remember to keep quiet, Dean.”

“Cas,” Dean mutters brokenly. Their lips are touching for all of two seconds before Castiel’s tongue is pressing for entrance. Dean groans, and Castiel pulls away.

“That’s not very quiet, Dean,” Castiel admonishes.

“Oops? Come on, come on let’s try again.” Castiel clicks his tongue in disapproval but brings their lips back together in another slow, deep kiss. Castiel’s left hand trails down Dean’s cheek, then a thumb is pressing underneath Dean’s jaw, tilting his head back so that Castiel can make a trail of firm, biting kisses down Dean’s jaw and neck, giving Dean just enough pain to have his nerves singing.

“God, _Cas,_ ” Dean moans, then whimpers when Castiel pulls away again.

“You’re not trying very hard to be quiet.”

“I am.”

“Mhmm.” Castiel kisses Dean again, backing them up until Dean’s ass bumps against the door. Dean shudders as Castiel’s hands trace their way down his body, stopping at his hips and working their way into the waistband of Dean’s underwear to start easing them down to Dean’s thighs. “I don’t suppose you have…”

Dean deflates slightly. “No condoms, not even any lube.”

Castiel growls, gripping Dean’s ass. “Damn it, Dean.”

“Dude, I went over a year without sex, or even an _erection,_ I wasn’t exactly worried about staying supplied.”

“Without an…” Castiel trails off, eyes going to Dean’s obviously hard cock while Dean shifts in embarrassment. “You didn’t seem to have any difficulties in my apartment.”

“Yeah, well that was my first orgasm in thirteen months.”

“Oh… um… goodness.”

“It got better.”

“Yes, I see that.” Castiel curls the fingers of his right hand around Dean’s dick, rubbing his thumb against the head. Dean moans, letting his head drop against the door. Castiel frowns. “That’s three, Dean.”

“Three what?”

“Three times you’ve failed to keep quiet.”

“Sorry?”

“I’m not at all impressed with the effort you’re putting into honoring my request.”

“You’re not gonna stop, are you?”

Castiel tilts his head like he’s puzzled, then he’s pulling Dean away from the door and forcing him to turn around. Dean’s heart beats faster at the sound of fabric shifting behind him. It’s almost impossible to reconcile this forceful, domineering man at his back with the man that looked two seconds away from fainting while meeting Dean’s loved ones. Either way, Dean’s on board. Even more on board when Castiel’s left hand covers Dean’s mouth.

“I’ll help you be quiet,” Castiel says gently.

Dean nods enthusiastically as Castiel ruts against his ass. Castiel presses his erection between Dean’s cheeks, and Dean lets out a muffled sound at the blunt pressure of Castiel’s cock against his hole.

“I can’t believe I have you alone again and I can’t even fuck you,” Castiel laments. Fuck, Dean wants it _bad._ He’s bottomed maybe twice in his life, and begrudgingly, but he’d outright _beg_ Castiel for it if either of them had any fucking condoms. “Fuck, Dean, I want you so much.”

“I want you too,” Dean mumbles into Castiel’s hand, running his tongue against the palm.

Castiel lets out something close to a snarl, pressing harder against Dean’s hole before pulling away, tugging Dean toward the bed. He shrugs his clothes off and lies on his back, waiting for Dean to join him. Dean pulls his underwear the rest of the way off and crawls over Castiel, dipping his head low to kiss him.

“I could go find an open store… get what we need,” Dean mutters, rubbing their cocks together with his hips. Castiel’s cock is wet at the head, and Dean uses what he can to slick Castiel’s shaft, easing the way before he resumes grinding against him. This time it’s Castiel that groans, and Dean smirks, putting all his weight on his left arm so he can use his right hand to cover Castiel’s mouth. “After all that talk about keeping quiet, Cas?”

Castiel glares, and Dean moves his fingers away long enough to give him a kiss. They lie there a while, rocking together gently, letting out muffled sighs and gasps, inching their way towards their orgasms. A few minutes pass and then Castiel is wrapping his legs around Dean’s waist with a shudder, then pulling him down into a heated kiss.

“You feel so _good,_ Dean,” he whimpers, reaching down to bring their cocks together and letting out a low whine as he starts to stroke them.

“Shh,” Dean says, panting at the tightening feeling in his balls.

“Come with me, Dean.”

“Yeah, Cas… yeah.”

Castiel squeezes them almost painfully tight and then he’s using his free hand to cover his own mouth as he comes, eyes shut tight, a slight blush on his cheeks. He looks gorgeous like this, and Dean has no choice but to follow him over the edge, growling a few choice obscenities into the salty skin of Castiel’s neck.


	28. Chapter 28

Dean wakes to the sound of Castiel’s alarm going off on the floor, left hand clutching Castiel’s wrist, right hand still holding the washcloth he used to clean them up last night. Castiel groans, rolling until he more or less falls off the bed, then he crawls naked on the floor over to his pants. He reaches his phone and turns it off with a sigh.

“Naked and on all fours is a good look for you,” Dean says, yawning.

Castiel yawns as well, pulling his jeans on over his bare hips. “When was your last STD test?”

Dean grimaces. “Is that how people say ‘good morning’ in Iowa?” Castiel raises his eyebrows, clearly waiting for an actual answer. “Eighteen months ago, I think. It was clean, but I had sex after that point.”

“That’s a pity. I wanted to blow you.”

“You… wanted to…”

“ _That’s_ how people say ‘good morning’ in Iowa.” Great, now Dean’s getting hard. “With my medications, safe sex is very important. While I do of course trust you not to endanger this heart… an untested partner is still quite a no-no. But… if you were to perhaps see a doctor sometime soon… I could definitely have my lips wrapped around you by the end of the week.”

Dean stares slack-jawed for a good thirty seconds before he’s scrambling to call his doctor while Castiel goes to take his pills.

  


***

  


Dean and Castiel emerge from a fairly handsy shower to find Ruby waiting, glaring.

“Have we managed to offend you in the thirty minutes we’ve been awake?” Dean snarks.

“You need to go shopping.”

“What, _now_?”

“Yes. You need groceries,” Ruby says, holding out a list.

“Oh _come on_ ,” Dean groans, holding the list and skimming it.

“Come on nothing, you have _two_ guests, and no food.” Ruby taps the list pointedly. “You’re also nearly out of soap, toilet paper, and you seem to only own two towels, which you two are _wearing._ You also owe me a better couch to sleep on.”

“I _owe_ _—_ ”

“I got the rest of our shit out of the cars when you were in the shower.”

“You were in my car—”

“And while you two are gone, I’m going to take care of all the laundry and _clean_ this mess of an apartment.”

Dean looks around at what he can see of his apartment. “It’s not even dirty, what the fu—” Dean yelps as Castiel reaches out and gives a sharp pinch to his midsection. “What the hell was that for?!”

Castiel plucks the list out of Dean’s hand. “Dean has an appointment with his doctor in about an hour, but after he’s done we will attend to your list.”

“We will?!”

Ruby nods, satisfied, before heading out into the living room.

Once they’re back in the bedroom, Dean turns to Castiel with a glare. “I can’t believe you pinched me, are you ten?”

“I was trying to make you stop talking, I apologize.”

“Okay, but _why_ were you trying to make me stop talking?!”

“Ruby is nesting as a coping mechanism, which I think is more constructive than her plans to be drunk. I think we should encourage it so long as it doesn’t get out of hand.”

Dean opens his mouth to reply, closes it, then opens it again. “Okay, you have a point. Pinching is still really rude, though. Even I know that and I raised _myself._ ”

“You’re right, I do know better. Would you like to pinch me back so that we’re at least even?”

“A little.”

“Or you could spank me. Would you like to spank me, Dean?”

Dean’s eyes roam over Castiel’s body, lingering on the towel around his waist. “Yeah.”

Castiel looks a little surprised but he smiles, stepping a bit closer. “Yeah? You want that? You want to spank me until my ass is red and sore? You want to bend me over and just let me have it?”

Dean can’t speak, he’s forgotten how to form words on his own, and they wouldn’t sound nearly as good as the ones Castiel is saying anyway. He nods slowly, licking his lips, caught in Castiel’s intense gaze.

“And then,” Castiel continues, “when I couldn’t take anymore, would you want to lick me open? Get your fingers inside me and stretch me good so you can fuck me until I’ve screamed myself hoarse?”

Dean nods, absently palming the erection that’s mysteriously appeared under his towel. Castiel reaches down, opening Dean’s towel and using the ends to pull him closer into a kiss, teasing Dean’s mouth open with his tongue.

Then he steps back. “Too bad we have errands to do.” Castiel pulls away and Dean’s mental faculties slowly come back online.

“That was just… mean.”

Castiel smiles innocently and starts digging through his bag for something to wear.

  


***

  


Dean’s doctor appointment doesn’t take too long, but because he hasn’t been in for over a year he gets to have a physical in addition to the full STD panel, which if he’s lucky will be done tomorrow or Friday.

After that, they spend nearly an hour in Pier 1, looking for a new couch.

“Do you think I should just get her a bed?” Dean muses, stretching out on a leather sofa.

Castiel crouches next to him, leaning forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think so, she did ask for a couch. She might be looking for something a little less permanent.” He looks the couch over, then up into Dean’s eyes. “Is this one comfortable?”

Dean wiggles in place. “It is, but not ‘sleep on it for eight hours a night’ comfortable.”

“I liked the brown sleeper sofa.”

“Yeah, me too. I mean it has sleeper right in the name.”

Dean pays twelve _hundred_ dollars for the couch, arranging to have it delivered to his apartment this afternoon. “If I’m not back by then, there’s a woman named Ruby Genovese that can sign for it, she should be there.”

“Ah,” the clerk says knowingly, “the wife?”

Dean blinks, surprised. He and Castiel have been cozying up all over this damn store. “Uh, sure. Don’t tell her I brought my boyfriend with me to buy the new couch though, okay? She’d crush my balls in the divorce.”

“O-of course, sir,” the clerk sputters.

Oh Jesus, this guy actually believes him. Dean can hear Castiel snickering quietly behind him. He shrugs. “Boys will be boys, am I right?” he says, rapping the counter with his knuckles and leering.

“Yes, uh… yes they will.”

They don’t even make it into the parking lot before dissolving into a fit of laughter.

  


***

  


They’re at the grocery store, buying all the shit Ruby has on her list. Dean’s in the produce aisle, looking for _shallots_ while Castiel is squeezing avocados nearby, trying to find the best ones to buy. Unreal. Dean’s in a grocery store with his boyfriend, buying _vegetables_. Sam’s never going to believe this.

Fuck.

It hits Dean like a punch in the stomach and he drops to his knees, body suddenly too heavy to stand. He feels like he’s not getting enough air.

“Dean? Dean!”

Dean looks up. Castiel is on his knees, looking at him, eyes full of so much concern.

“Dean, are you in pain? Talk to me.”

Dean is still trying to breathe normally, but every lungful of air is a struggle, and it _hurts_. Things start to get blurry, and at first Dean thinks he’s about to pass out, but then he realizes his eyes are filling with tears.

“I forgot,” Dean mumbles.

“Forgot what, Dean?” Castiel says, gently stroking Dean’s cheek.

“I just… for a second I completely forgot he was gone.”

“Oh. Oh, Dean.”

“And it wasn’t… it was just that I wasn’t actively thinking about it… I _forgot,_ for a second I thought I’d actually talk to him later.” Dean’s sobbing, and he should stop, because there are _people_ around, he’s in a fucking store.

Castiel’s thumbs brush at the tears still pouring out. “What can I do?”

“Can you… finish with this? I think I want to get out of here.”

Castiel nods and stands, reaching down to help Dean back to his feet. He feels so unsteady, he’s not even sure he’s going to make it back to the car on his own.

“No, nevermind. Let’s just finish… together,” Dean says.

“Dean…”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

“We can do this later.”

Dean shakes his head. “Let’s keep going. That’s what I want, Cas.”

Castiel crouches down to pick up the shallots Dean apparently dropped, tossing them in their cart. He heads back toward the avocados and Dean follows, keeping his head down. He definitely doesn’t want to see any of the people he just made a scene in front of. They don’t talk, but every so often Castiel will take Dean’s hand and squeeze it, or kiss his cheek, and it’s just what Dean needs.

  


***

  


They sit in the car, groceries slowly warming in the backseat for several minutes before Castiel speaks. “Do you want me to drive?”

Dean flexes his hands against the steering wheel, frowning. “I’m not sure.”

“It’ll pass.”

Dean nods. “I mean it has… I just… it came out of _nowhere_.”

“Grief is like that. You can get past what you think is the worst of it, but sometimes… the worst comes back for a visit. Days... weeks… years later. You just have to learn to ride the tide of grief until you can safely make your way back to the shore.” Castiel’s voice sounds raw, and he has this pained, faraway look in his eyes. Dean’s suddenly very aware that he knows relatively little about the man next to him.

“Cas?”

Castiel takes Dean’s closest hand, kissing the knuckles and sighing. “Let’s go back. Let’s rest. You’ll feel better after a nap.”

Dean wants to ask. He wants to know the source of what he just saw in Castiel’s eyes, but now’s not the time. Castiel is right. They should rest.

  


***

  


“What the… fuck.”

Dean’s apartment is… clean. He thought it was clean before, but apparently he was just used to the dingy dirty clutter of it all. The new sofa is already in place, with Dean’s old, musty plaid-tweed couch off to parts unknown, and there’s not a speck of dust to be seen. Anything that could be washed or dusted or vacuumed has been cleaned, which is especially fascinating because Dean’s vacuum broke two years ago and never got replaced. There are several stacks of folded laundry on the coffee table, and the apartment smells faintly of roses. How the fuck long were they gone, anyway?

“Wow, this is quite a change from this morning,” Castiel mumbles.

“Maybe I should hire her as my maid,” Dean says.

“Hey, fuck you.” Ruby comes in holding Dean’s hamper, full of more clean laundry. She sets the hamper on the couch and looks at Dean, frowning. “You look like shit, what happened?”

“Oh you know, broke down sobbing in the produce aisle, typical grownup shit.”

“Huh. Are you okay?”

“I _cried_ in front of _people_.”

“So that’s a no. Your room’s all cleaned up if you want to take a nap.”

Dean sets his bags down. “That’s all I want right now.”

“Okay but make it a quick one, Jo is bringing Chinese food and curtains in like an hour.”

“What… _curtains_?”

“Your curtains are disgusting, Dean.”

Dean has more to say, but Castiel is already tugging him toward the bedroom. “You’re welcome for the twelve-hundred dollar couch, by the way!”

  


***

  


They’re in Dean’s bed, shoes off. Not asleep yet, but decompressing at least. Dean’s lying with his head on Castiel’s chest, listening to Castiel’s strangely fast heartbeat while Castiel’s arms surround him in a loose hold.

He opens his mouth to ask Castiel why his heartbeat is like that, but instead says, “you lost someone important”.

Castiel stiffens, arms tightening around Dean briefly before his hold relaxes again.

“I did. It was a long time ago.”

“But it still hurts.”

Castiel hands rub at Dean’s sides. “It’s always going to hurt. Some days it will hurt less, barely at all, and those days will eventually become the majority, but when you lose someone that integral to your being… you just… it’ll get easier, Dean. You’ll learn to exist in a world where this person… isn’t. And you'll find happiness and joy in it… but some days it hurts anyway.”

“How do you handle it?”

“Just have to… ride it out. Talk to someone if it gets bad… remember that it will pass.” Castiel sighs. “I know you’re curious. I’m sorry, you’ve shared some very personal things with me… it’s just that I don’t… I don’t _talk_ about this.”

“Cas, it’s okay, you don’t—”

“My brother Jimmy, he died when I was sixteen. When _we_ were sixteen.”

“Oh, Jesus, was he…”

“Yes, my twin. Jimmy and I were close. For a long time, he was the only one in my family that knew I wasn’t attracted to women. Growing up, we were both fairly shy, quiet, but as we grew older, he became more friendly, outgoing. We were always best friends, but he started to have new friends as well, and they were unfortunately of the unsavory variety. I think Jimmy was entering a bit of a rebellious phase, a response to our strict parents and all that. There was a party. One of his jerk friends had parents out of town. I wanted to go… make sure Jimmy didn’t go too crazy… I had a bad feeling. I also had the flu though, so I wasn’t going anywhere. I begged Gabriel to go in my place. Gabriel assured me he would, but…”

Castiel sighs, and Dean can hear the absolute pain in it. He never should have brought this up.

“Gabriel didn’t want to spend his night with annoying high schoolers, so he dropped Jimmy off and went to a movie. The party wasn’t big or anything, maybe fifteen kids. But it was fifteen kids drinking, and Jimmy got far too drunk… fell in the pool, and no one noticed until it was too late. It was about ten-thirty at night, and to this day I swear I _felt_ it. This horrible, twisted, sick feeling.”

Castiel makes this sad little whimper, and Dean feels like his chest is caving in from the grief radiating from him.

“It’s why Gabriel reacted so… strongly to being gone when I took a turn for the worse. In his mind, Jimmy’s death was his fault, because he drove him, because he didn’t stay. To Gabriel, he let me down and because of it I lost the person I was closest to. I’ve never blamed him, it was an _accident,_ and if Gabriel had known what was going to happen… he wouldn’t have left Jimmy alone at that party. Just like if he’d known I was going to to start dying rather suddenly, he wouldn’t have left the country. But as I said before…”

“Guilt is an irrational animal.”

“Yes. We all could have done things differently. My parents could have been less severe, Gabriel could have stayed at the party, I could have asked Jimmy not to go, Jimmy could have had less alcohol. But we didn’t know.”

Dean clings to Castiel, longing for a world where Jimmy never drowned, Castiel’s heart never failed, and Sam never got killed by a rich businessman who thought his text conversation was more important than driving responsibly.

“It’s been seventeen years. Even now, some days it hurts so much I can’t stand it. Especially since I started taking medications that affect my mood. But most days, I’m just… doing what I can to live and be happy, because Jimmy loved me, and he would want me to do whatever the hell I wanted.”

“Cas…”

“There have even been days where I didn’t think of him at all, and I know that’s okay.” Castiel tightens his arms around Dean again, breathing deep. “Experiences like you had in the store, those will get more and more rare.”

“I hope so. I’ve had… ‘oh yeah, Sam is dead’ moments a lot over the past year, but they were never… it was bad.”

“I understand.”

“I wish you didn’t.”

Castiel snorts, one hand stroking Dean’s hair. “Yes, I suppose I wish I didn’t either.”

  


***

  


At some point Dean hears Jo arrive. He doesn’t get up though, and neither Ruby or Jo come to get him. He stays using Castiel as a pillow until the sound of Sam’s heart eventually lulls him to sleep.

  


***

  


When Dean wakes, there are piles of clean laundry by the bed, and new curtains on the window, which is… a little creepy, and Dean can imagine Jo and Ruby in here, snickering and changing curtains while he slept. They probably took pictures. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time; it’s almost seven.

There’s a text from Jo that says, “awww”, and sure enough there’s a photo attached of him and Castiel unconscious and snuggled together.

“That’s a little disturbing.”

Dean tilts his head to see Castiel peering down at him through sleepy eyes. “Yeah,” he says, setting the picture as his phone’s background.

“I am _incredibly_ hungry.”

Dean yawns, stretching his arms as he sits up. “Come on, let’s see if they left us any food.”

When they go out into the living room it’s empty, but there’s a pile of Chinese takeout boxes on the counter with a note on top saying “Out doing girl shit, don’t wait up”. Dean makes a noise of disgust when he sees that the note is signed “Miss Ruby Red”.

“Are you offended by ‘girl shit’?” Castiel asks, looking at the note over Dean’s shoulder.

“ _No,_ ‘Miss Ruby Red’ was the name of a folder I found on Sam’s laptop that was full of naked Ruby pictures. She knows I saw it, she’s just being gross.”

Castiel chuckles. “I like her.”

“Yeah well you didn’t see her naked and sprawled out on a set of red satin sheets.”

“Are there other pictures on the laptop? Of Sam? Or you? Uh… _clothed,_ I mean.”

“Oh yeah, he’s got quite the digital photo album, there’s even some old family photos he got scanned somewhere.”

“I’d love to see them.”

“Yeah?”

And that’s how they spend their evening, eating reheated takeout while clicking through the many photos and a few videos on Sam’s computer. Castiel gets teary at some of the photos of Sam and Dean together, but then so does Dean. It’s not a sad experience overall, just a little emotional. Afterward, Castiel fishes out a thumb drive he inexplicably packed in his bag and insists that Dean use it to make back-ups of the photos.

“You sure came prepared.”

“I wouldn’t say that, I still don’t have any condoms.”

Dean fumbles as he’s trying to put the drive in the USB port. “Oh… um… we could… look into that tomorrow. If you want.”

“Couldn’t hurt to be prepared, right?”

“Yeah, couldn’t hurt.”

  


***

  


Dean wakes later to the sound of his front door closing, followed by lots and lots of giggling. And then moaning.

“Oh, God.”

“Dean?” Castiel mutters sleepily.

“Listen.”

There’s more giggling, then some fairly loud kissing noises.

“Ruby brought someone home,” Castiel says.

There’s a slap, then a squeal. “Shhh, you’re going to wake them up,” Ruby says.

“Oh come on, they didn’t even wake up when I installed the curtains.” Oh, holy shit. It’s Jo. It’s Ruby and Jo. _Kissing._

Castiel yawns. “Isn’t that your friend Jo?”

“Yes. God, it’s like my _sisters_ are making out in my living room, how gross. And they both dated Sam! Isn’t that _weird_?”

“Dean. You’re curled up in bed with the man who has your brother’s _heart_ in his chest. It is perhaps not up to us to choose what is ‘weird’.”

“What? Us? This is quirky and romantic, okay? _That,_ ” Dean says, pointing at the far wall just in time for twin moans to sound out from the other room, “that’s _weird_. I didn’t even know Jo _liked_ women.”

One of them, Jo, Dean thinks, moans and yelps, and the other shushes her loudly. Any other two women on the planet and Dean would probably be hard by now.

“Well, since we’re both up, I could distract you…”

“ _No_ ,” Dean hisses.

Castiel snickers, pulling himself out from under Dean. “I have some disposable ear plugs in my bag, my gift to you.”


	29. Chapter 29

This time Dean wakes to the sound of his phone buzzing away on his nightstand. Castiel is gone, and according to the time on Dean’s phone, pill time was fifteen minutes ago. It’s his doctor’s office on the phone, his blood tests and STD results are all normal. He thanks the receptionist for the call and then crawls out of bed. He smells food.

Ruby is sitting at Dean’s dinky “dining table”, watching Castiel cook with a fond smile.

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel says.

“Cooking breakfast on a weekday? My kitchen’s not used to this kind of treatment,” Dean says.

Ruby snorts. “That’s because you never had any _ingredients_.”

Castiel is making what looks to be ham and cheese scrambled eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and toast from Dean’s new Hello Kitty toaster. Far more appealing than the bowl of cereal Dean chokes down most mornings at home.

“I rarely cook breakfast myself,” Castiel says, “unless Gabriel comes by and demands it. Most mornings it’s a bagel with cream cheese and strawberry preserves.”

“Hey, me too!” Ruby holds a hand up, and Castiel seems a bit puzzled, but he comes over to give Ruby a high five.

“Cas makes preserves,” Dean says proudly. “They’re really good, I ate a whole jar of them.”

Ruby narrows her eyes at Dean. “I get the sense that you mean you sat there and ate them out of the jar instead of spreading them on something else like a civilized person.”

“It was a pretty small jar…”

“You would.”

“Yes I would, and I did.”

Castiel serves them breakfast, and since there are only two chairs, he sits on the counter to eat his own food.

“So,” Dean says, tone aiming for casual, “what’d you and Jo get up to last night?”

“Not much… saw a movie, hung out at The Roadhouse…”

Dean nods. “Then came back and fucked in my living room.”

Dean supposes he has no one to blame but himself for the spray of orange juice that hits him in the face. He calmly gets to his feet and dumps the food now covered in Ruby’s orange juice spit into the trash. He wipes his face off with a paper towel, then stands next to Castiel, who doesn’t protest when Dean starts eating off his plate.

After a minute or so of silence, Ruby speaks. “So… you heard us?”

“These walls are thinner than you think.”

“Guess I should know that, since I heard _you two_ going at it.”

“We weren’t _going at it,_ ” Dean says blushing, “shut up. This isn’t about me and Cas anyway! This is about you and Jo! You both dated Sam! You’re both like my sisters! This is practically incest!”

If Castiel’s eyebrows go any higher, they’ll leave his face entirely.

“Okay, three things,” Ruby says. “First, stop comparing things to incest. Your mind keeps going there, you have a problem.”

“ _One_ other time, my mind doesn’t _keep_ _—_ ”

“Second, we’re not _actually_ your sisters, and she is definitely not like a sister to me.”

“ _Fine._ ”

“Third, we have… history.”

“Since when?!”

Ruby is suddenly finding her eggs terribly fascinating, losing some steam from her scolding. “Uh… well sometimes… me and Sam would see Jo.”

“... _see_ Jo.”

“Sometimes.”

“Like the three of you got together, and…”

“Had _sex,_ yes.”

“But they broke up years ago. Hell, lightyears ago.”

Castiel clears his throat. “A lightyear is a measure of distance, not—”

“Now’s not the time, Cas. So… you and my brother had his ex-girlfriend as a… casual side-piece.”

Ruby shrugs. “She wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t know about this.”

“I mean… if it had become… _more,_ we would have told you. But Sam didn’t want to make you freak out over… fun.”

“I wouldn’t have freaked out!”

“You’re freaking out _now._ ”

Dean hangs his head. “You’re right. I am, I’m sorry. It’s just… _Jo_. And you guys… and Sam. So when you left… that wasn’t just about Sam, was it?”

“I had some feelings about Jo that I didn’t want to deal with, yeah.”

“And now?”

“Two old friends reconnecting? She even offered to kick Meg’s ass for me.”

“Man… Jo. I can’t believe it.”

“Like she was the only secretly bisexual person in this weird surrogate family situation.”

“Touché.”

“Well, this has been a hoot and a half, but I’m going to go take a shower. I have things to do, places to go, people to see.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “You have things to do?”

“Jo has Salon Di Marco coupons.”

“Sooo, you’re going on a date.”

“Excuse you, we are going in the name of friendship and frugality. I am very recently single, you know.” Ruby grabs some clothes and one of the towels Dean bought yesterday and heads into the bathroom while Dean plucks one of Castiel’s strips of bacon off his plate.

“You wanna have a salon day too, Cas?”

“I can’t think of anything I want less.”

“Awesome. Got a call from my doctor’s office, since I told them I wanted my results right away. I’m all squeaky clean.”

“Hmmm, interesting. Will we be spending the day inside, then?”

“Tempting, but I thought I could show you around Lawrence today. Lawrence has… interesting stuff. Probably.”

Castiel smiles. “I’m very interested.”

“Cool. We’ll make this a Dean Winchester and Places of Interest Tour!”

  
  


***

  
  


It’s almost ten when Dean and Castiel leave, and naturally they leave just as Dean’s father is exiting his own apartment. Castiel goes rigid next to Dean.

“Morning, boys,” John says.

“Hey, Dad. Just uh… gonna show Cas around today. Nickel tour and all that.”

“Sounds good. Uh… I’m off at six… think you’d be up for a trip to Rudy’s?”

Dean looks over at Castiel. “It’s a pizza place, you wanna go?” Castiel nods, eyes wide. “Looks like we’re a go. We’ll meet you at six-thirty?”

“Sure, see you then, kid.” John makes his way down the hall, and Dean looks back at Castiel.

“Wow, I haven’t been to Rudy’s with my dad since I was… fifteen? Fourteen? Cool place, though… lots of toppings. You look so freaked out, man.”

“I’m sorry, he’s your father.”

“Dude are you worried about having his approval or something?”

“No, I just… hate him.”

Okay, not what Dean was expecting. “You hate my dad? Is this because of all that stuff I told you?”

“It was a very compelling story.”

Dean frowns. “Yeah, but I mean… he’s a lot better now, Cas.”

“He _beat_ you.”

Dean glances down and sees that Castiel’s hands are shaking. He takes them in his own hands, rubbing slow circles with his thumbs. “Yeah. What he did… who he was… that’s not nothin’. But who he is now matters too. I’ve had a lot of time to… well, not forgive and forget, but… something close-ish. You don’t have to like him, Cas. We can cancel.”

“No, it’s alright. He lives across the hall from you. He’s part of your life. I want to be part of your life.”

“Cas…”

“I can overcome. A long dinner will be like… exposure therapy.”

Dean sighs and shakes his head before leaning in to kiss Castiel.

“Whatever floats your boat, weirdo.”

  
  


***

  
  


Dean takes Castiel to a lot of places that have meaning to him. The site of his first home, some of the houses and apartments he’s lived in over the years, Bobby’s place, former schools. He even drives past the cemeteries where his mother and Sam are buried, though he’s not up to going into either. For lunch, they grab gyros at The Mad Greek, because Sam always loved their gyros and dragged Dean there all the time. After that, they go to the Natural History Museum, site of many field trips in Dean’s childhood. In Dean’s opinion, if you’ve seen one natural history museum you’ve seen them all, but Castiel is pleased to peruse the exhibits, and seems particularly fascinated by the “Bee Tree” exhibit.

After the museum, Castiel starts to get tired, so they head back to Dean’s apartment to rest.

“I feel like such an old man,” Castiel grumbles, crawling into Dean’s bed, “getting sleepy after a little activity.”

“Hey, it’s cool, I love naps,” Dean says cheerfully.

“Some days are like this, but most days I have more energy, I assure you.”

“Mmm.” Dean kisses Castiel’s forehead, then his lips. “I remember.” He sets his phone to wake them up in ninety minutes, then cuddles close to Castiel.

“I enjoyed my tour today, thank you for showing me around,” Castiel mumbles sleepily.

“Thank you for not being bored out of your mind.”

“Hmmm… you’re welcome.” Castiel’s fading fast, looking at Dean with a sleepy smile.

“Hope you’ll be hungry for pizza when you wake up.”

Castiel closes his eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  
  


***

  
  


Dean wakes up slowly, as he often does after a nap. He feels… good. Warm. Aroused. Needy.

His eyes open lazily, and that feeling starts to make sense. There’s a dark head of hair between his legs, plush, damp lips wrapped around his cock, tender fingers toying with his balls. Castiel is sucking his dick. This is awesome.

“ _Cas_ , you’re…”

Castiel pulls off with a slick pop. His eyes are dark, excited, but there’s a hint of uncertainty there. “This is… okay, right? Your doctor said you were—”

“I have no objections to what is happening. None at _all._ ”

Castiel smiles, strangely sweet and affectionate for someone who was just sucking Dean off while he was unconscious. “Good… I’m enjoying the weight of you on my tongue.”

Dean shudders in arousal, because… who _says_ that, and then Castiel is gripping Dean’s cock and taking it back into his mouth. Dean groans, hoping Ruby isn’t back and in the living room.

Castiel’s lips are tight around the head of Dean’s cock, hand stroking the shaft slowly, tongue working against the head. Dean is squirming, already breathing a little faster as Castiel’s fingers trail past his balls, rubbing along his perineum. Sparks of sensation run through him, and his hips jerk in surprise. Castiel pulls away, coughing a little.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” Dean babbles.

“Just caught me off guard, it’s okay,” Castiel says gently. His right hand is already wrapped back around Dean’s dick, thumb smearing precome and spit, rubbing against the frenulum. Castiel’s lips are pink from use, and Dean groans as Castiel licks them. Fuck, he’s missed doing this kind of thing. Castiel rubs at Dean’s hole, and then there’s warm, wet suction again and Dean is just barely arching off the bed, whining and whimpering.

“We really need to go somewhere that sells lubrication, Dean.”

Dean tries to answer, but then there’s a long tongue swirling around the head of his cock and he gives up as Castiel continues taking him apart. It doesn’t take long at all for Dean to feel his orgasm looming, balls tightening, toes curling.

“Cas, Cas, gonna come… _Cas._ ”

Castiel just makes a noise of affirmation and moans, finger rubbing a little more insistently at Dean’s hole. Dean cries out, body so tense his legs start to cramp as his orgasm washes over him. He’s moaning Castiel’s name over and over, even as his body relaxes and he slips free from Castiel’s mouth.

Castiel groans, head leaning against Dean’s thigh, and Dean realizes Castiel is working himself with one hand. He peers up at Dean, eyes intense.

Then the alarm Dean set on his phone goes off, and it hilariously startles Castiel into his orgasm. He squeaks, then bites down on Dean’s thigh, causing some strong aftershocks to rush through Dean’s body.

“Fuck… _fuck…_ ” Dean moans, reaching over to turn his phone off. Castiel makes a little sad noise, kissing Dean’s thigh in apology. “Almost broke the skin, you vampire. You’re lucky I’m clean.”

“I was… overwhelmed, I apologize.”

Dean shrugs one shoulder. “I liked it.”

“A little kinky, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Well… _my_ kink is… us taking a shower and me brushing my teeth before we go meet with your father.”

“That’s… not sexy.”

Castiel starts shedding his clothes. “Proper oral hygiene is very sexy, thank you, and important for one in my situation. The human mouth is a breeding ground for bacteria.”

“I’m really enjoying this afterglow, sweetheart.”

“You should consider an antiseptic mouthwash, now that we’re a couple.”

  
  


***

  
  


John’s truck is already parked outside Rudy’s Pizzeria when Dean and Castiel arrive, so they go inside. John is waving enthusiastically from a far booth, a gesture which seems strange coming from him. They slide in on the side opposite John, and John’s smile is… large. Dean appreciates the effort, but the smile is bordering on creepy.

“Uh… hey, Dad.”

“Hey! You kids have a good time seeing the city today?”

“Yes,” Castiel says, managing to not look terrified or enraged. “Dean showed me many of the places in Lawrence that hold emotional significance to him. Then we visited the natural history museum.”

“Cas is a nerd, so he digs that kind of stuff,” Dean says, smiling.

“‘Nerd’ is a strong word.”

“Mhmm.”

“You guys go to the garage, then?” John says.

Dean shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t really want to think about work until the vacation’s over, you know? Drove past Bobby’s house, though.”

John nods. “Yeah… so, um… shall we order?”

They end up ordering the daily special: a slice, a salad, and a drink, plus an order of garlic bread. There’s an awkward absence of conversation as they wait for their food. When it comes down to it, most of the time Dean still just doesn’t know how to talk to his father.

“So, uh… how’d things go with Kate’s son?”

John’s face brightens from the uncomfortable expression it had settled into. “Oh, Adam’s a great kid. Uh… real friendly, smart, wants to be a doctor someday. We uh… we tossed a ball around for a while, supposed to go to a game the weekend after this one.”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool,” Dean says.

It’s not, actually. Dean’s kind of livid and he didn’t expect to be. Baseball games just make Dean think of the days John showed up to be an actual dad for a day. Those trips to parks, movies, and even baseball games, where Dean would try to pretend that their family was okay, complete. It was John getting back in Dean and Sam’s good graces in between benders.

But this is Sober John, who is probably taking Adam to a game because he _wants_ to spend time with the kid. Sometimes Dean is so very bitter.

“What?” John says.

Dean blinks. “Huh?”

Castiel leans close, whispering in Dean’s ear. “You went very silent, and then you muttered, ‘so fucking bitter’.”

Fuck, Dean needs to get it together. He’s pretty sure all three of them breathe a sigh of relief when their food arrives, and they start remarking on how good everything smells, eager to pretend Dean’s slip up didn’t happen.

They’ve been eating in silence for a couple of minutes when John decides to attempt more conversation. “So… what do you do in Des Moines, Casteel?”

“Castiel,” Dean says.

“Right. Castiel.”

“I work in my brother’s bookstore,” Castiel says, “it’s named Turn the Page.”

“Your brother a big Bob Seger fan?”

Castiel smiles. “It’s a bit of an inside joke, I suppose. Gabriel named it that to tease my oldest brother, Michael. About ten years ago, Gabriel dropped by Michael’s home unannounced, and discovered him crying and singing along to that song in his underwear. He’d had a bad breakup.”

Dean snorts. Gabriel’s a fucking riot, apparently.

“It’s something he’s teased Michael about for years, and when I couldn’t settle on a name for the store, Gabriel decided to choose. That’s what he chose. It’s a good song.”

“So,” John says, “you work together?”

“Oh, uh… no, not really. He’s looking after the store right now, though. At least I think he is. I might need to check on him.”

John chuckles, but Dean thinks Castiel is probably serious. Gabriel’s probably hosting an orgy in the store right now or something.

“I have… medical issues, so I work at the store to be on Gabriel’s insurance. And… for income, and uh… I always wanted a bookstore.”

“A uh… medical condition? It serious?”

“I suppose it depends on your definition of serious.”

“Cas had a heart transplant,” Dean says.

John’s mouth drops open slightly, and he hurriedly takes a drink of his soda. “Wow, that’s… wow. Never met anyone with a transplant before.”

“That you know of,” Castiel says, poking at his salad. “I blend in fairly well.”

“Oh, sorry I didn’t mean… I mean I’m sure you’re normal,” John says, sounding embarrassed.

Dean guffaws. “Nah, he’s not normal.”

“Dean,” Castiel hisses, elbowing him.

Dean nudges him back. “He likes rocks and reads romance novels.”

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel whines. It’s so cute.

John looks a little uncomfortable again. “So, ah… Dean, at some point Kate wants… she’d love to meet you.”

Dean chokes slightly on his drink. “She wants to meet me?”

“Well, I’ve met _her_ son, so…”

“Yeah um…” Dean bites into a breadstick just for an excuse to not talk for a second. He doesn’t want to meet Kate. That sounds like another awkward meal in the making for sure. This meal is bad enough and he has Castiel with him for this. “I don’t know if I’m uh… _there_ right now. I’m glad things are going well and all that, but I’m not really ready to be… involved.”

Dean stares intently at the soft breadstick he’s nervously crushing in his hand. Castiel pries the breadstick from Dean’s fingers and passes him a napkin.

“There’s no rush, son. I just wanted to put it out there.”

“Yeah, okay… uh, cool, I guess.”

The conversation dies again. This was such a bad idea. No one is being hostile or unfriendly, but no one knows what to say either. Eventually their table is devoid of food and Dean faces the fact that conversation is inevitable.

“So, uh… good pizza,” Dean says.

Awful conversation. Just awful.

“Dean,” Castiel says, sounding startled, “I left my pills in your apartment.”

“Shit,” Dean mutters, trying not to sound excited that he might have to leave.

John looks up from his empty cup of soda. “Pills?”

“Yeah, Cas takes a bunch of crap so he won’t reject Sa— his— heart. He’s supposed to take them at the same time every day.” A time that is forty-five minutes from now, but Dean’s not going to quibble over details. “We should probably go.”

“I’ll see you later on?”

“Of course, thanks, Dad.”

“Thank you for your understanding,” Castiel adds.

“So polite,” John says with a soft chuckle, “you gotta work that habit out of him if he’s gonna be around here.”

Dean gives his father a genuine smile then. “I’ll see what I can do.”

They swiftly make their way outside and into the Impala, each letting out twin sighs of relief then looking at the other in surprise.

“That was… brutal,” Dean says.

“The three of us do _not_ create an exciting social chemistry.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “You didn’t forget your meds at all, did you.”

“No, I’m very careful about that. I just couldn’t take another minute, I apologize.”

“I’ll forgive you just this once.”

“I think next time we should attempt this with some sort of… activity. A movie, or maybe some sort of contact sport. The less talking, the better. Perhaps a silent meditation retreat.”

Dean chuckles, starting up the car. “All great ideas.” He sighs. “He and I have had a few decent talks since Sammy died, but a lot of the time it’s _just_ like it was in there. Quiet, awkward as _fuck,_ both of us scouring our brains for a topic that might net us a few minutes of easy conversation. And before Sam died, Dad was a mostly unlikable drunk, so we didn’t really have… _chats._ I’ve spent my whole life not knowing how to talk to him, and it _shows_.”

“Yes, I’m afraid it does. As for me, I spent the entire meal feeling as though I was seconds from blurting out something inappropriate. ‘You beat Dean and I hate you for it’, or ‘I have Sam’s heart in my body’, or ‘I nearly choked on your son’s dick before dinner’, or something equally horrifying.”

Dean barks out a laugh. “Jesus. Well, thank you for _not_ doing that.”

“It was quite a struggle.”

“I know he wants to make it right. What he did that day, and all the other days I guess… I know he’s sorry, I know if he could go back and undo it, he would. But I just ain’t ready to grant forgiveness, you know? Not sure I ever will be. I kept him in my life, don’t spend my time with him trying to rub in the guilt. That’s gonna have to be enough for him.”

“He’s lucky to have even that.”

“Anyway, thank you for trying with him. Honestly if it were the other way around, I’d probably have been pretty rude.”

“I wouldn’t subject either one of us to dinner with my parents. No one likes them, not even Michael, and he works with them. They were truly dreadful people when I knew them, and as far as I know that fact remains unaltered.”

“I can feel the love.”

“I _would_ like you to meet my siblings at some point, however.”

“Are they anything like Gabriel?”

“ _No one_ is like Gabriel. They’ve been a good, strong support system for me, even as I’ve retreated socially and let friendships fall by the wayside. I’ve never felt like I had no one, I’m truly—” Castiel interrupts himself to point at the Target they’re about to pass. “Let’s go there.”

Dean slows the car so he can pull into the lot. “What’re we getting?”

“I believe they sell condoms here.”

Dean’s hands clench on the steering wheel. “Oh, uh… yeah. Yeah.”

“You’re blushing.”

“Shut the fuck up, I am not.”

  
  


***

  
  


Castiel’s pill alarm ends up going off while they’re in the store. Since he just ate, Castiel opts to take his pills at a water fountain in the store. Dean stands with him and gives the stink eye to people staring at the man taking several pills out of a ziploc bag and taking a long drink with each one.

“You look terribly unfriendly right now,” Castiel says when he’s done.

“People were _staring_ at you.”

“I’m not sure that warrants shooting them dirty looks.”

“Agree to disagree, sweetheart.”

Castiel gets right in Dean’s personal space, nuzzling their noses together. “Have we arrived at the pet names stage already, _honey_?”

Dean pecks Castiel on the lips. “Looks like we have, _love-muffin_.”

“You two are gonna make me puke up my dinner.”

Dean turns, ready for a fight, but deflates when he sees that it’s Bobby, pushing a cart full of big bags of dog food.

“ _Someone’s_ jealous they don’t have a make-out buddy,” Dean says. “Aside from Rumsfeld,” he adds, nodding at Bobby’s cart.

Bobby narrows his eyes. “Just got off the phone with your daddy a minute ago by the way. Goin’ with him for a round or two of pool when I’m done here. He mentioned he was out with you two yahoos until Cas here realized he forgot his pills at your place. This your place, kid?”

Dean groans. “Oh come on, Bobby, don’t tell him. The meal was so fucking awkward, and Cas was two seconds away from yelling at him for hitting me or blurting some other weird shit, and—”

“Hitting you.” Bobby’s expression has darkened quite a bit.

Oh, fuck. This is the fucking problem with repressing things; let them out a little and then suddenly they come out whenever the fuck they want. “Bobby…”

“He _hit_ you?”

“Bobby, it was fifteen damn years ago, I’m over it.”

Lie. Lie, lie, lie. Dean’s not over it. Dean might never be over it, and not talking about it hasn’t stopped those nightmares he has a few times a year; sixteen again, father beating him mercilessly, and in the dream Sam doesn’t come save him.

“Fifteen years ago you were a _child,_ Dean.” Bobby’s face is turning red in that way it does whenever Bobby’s really, really angry, which is pretty damn rare. “Jocks at school,” he mutters thoughtfully, clearly thinking back to the day Dean and Sam showed up at his door. Dean grimaces. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Bobby, please let it go.”

Bobby storms away, leaving Dean, Castiel, and his cart behind.

“At least take your damn dog food!” Dean yells.

Bobby’s gone within seconds, and Dean and Castiel look at each other with wide eyes.

“Can’t believe we were worried about _you_ saying the wrong thing. Fifteen fucking years I’ve kept that from him.”

“Should we chase him down?”

“Fuck, I have no idea.”

“Perhaps you should call your father.”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s a good idea.” Dean fumbles his phone out of his pocket and calls John, who answers on the second ring.

“Hey, kid.”

“Dad, I fucked up.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I told Bobby. It was an accident, I swear, I was just rambling and said the wrong thing, and he flipped out and left and I think he’s on his way to… kick your ass or something.”

“Dean, calm down. Told Bobby _what_?”

“That you _hit me_ , Dad.”

There’s a long pause. “Well in that case, yes, he probably _is_ on his way to kick my ass.”

“Dad, I’m _so_ sorry.”

“Now hold on just a damn minute, Dean. I know you don’t want to talk about this, and I know you don’t want my apologies, but you need to know you didn’t do anything wrong. Not a damn thing. It ain’t on you to protect my dirty secrets.”

“But…”

“But nothing. Now I’m gonna go locate my Tylenol, because I’m sure I’ll need it. I’ll talk to you later, kiddo.” John ends the call and Dean stands there, gaping at his phone.

“Sooo,” Castiel says.

“I think he _wants_ to be punished, basically.”

Castiel nods. “Since he is remorseful for what he did, I can see that.”

“Okay but Bobby punching him in the dick or shooting him with a shotgun full of rock salt isn’t going to fix anything.”

“But it might make your father feel better.”

“That’s stupid.”

“It’ll make Bobby feel better.”

“Can’t deny that.”

Castiel glances at the abandoned cart, then back at Dean. “Did Bobby actually shoot someone with rock salt?”

“Yeah, uh… his business partner. They have a bit of a fiery relationship. Not the sexy kind.”

“Your loved ones are terrifying.”

“They sure are. I ever tell you about Jo’s knife collection? Come on, I still want condoms. And lube.”

“Don’t forget mouthwash and dental floss.”

Dean sighs, rolling his eyes. “Fine. Also mouthwash and dental floss.”

  
  


***

  
  


They end up spending over half an hour at Target, wandering through the aisles, talking. Dean tells Castiel all about the argument between Bobby and Rufus that ended with Rufus getting shot with rock salt, and about the time Ellen had to come have a parent-teacher conference after Jo brought photos of her knife collection to show-and-tell in the second grade. They buy condoms, some lube, mouthwash and floss for Dean, even more towels for the apartment, ear plugs for the next time Ruby has an overnight guest, a deck of cards, a Rubik’s cube, and a new can opener. Dean just came for the sex supplies, he’s not sure how he ended up with all this other shit.

When they get back to Dean’s building, the door to John’s apartment is open a crack.

“I’m going to go… check the damage. Wanna head inside?” Dean says, handing the grocery bags to Castiel. Dean watches him disappear into the apartment before going to check on this father.

John is lying on Dean’s old couch, holding a package of frozen blueberries to his left eye while Ruby tuts and cleans a cut on his arm.

“So… Bobby found you, then,” Dean says pointlessly.

Ruby pauses in her ministrations. “Holy shit, _Bobby_ did this?”

“He had some strong feelings he needed to express,” John says with a weary sigh.

Ruby looks down at him. “I assume you had it coming.”

“I did.”

Ruby snorts. “Men.” She stands, giving John a snarky thumbs up and patting Dean on the arm on her way out of the apartment.

Dean notices that one of John’s wooden chairs is a broken, splintered mess on the floor. “So… he came over here, chewed you out for a while, punched you in the face, then stormed out after you fell and broke your chair and cut your arm?”

“Pretty much. Anyone ever tell you how Bobby’s dad died?”

Dean shakes his head, and John sits up, scooting to the side so Dean can join him on the couch.

“Ed Singer was a mean, mean drunk, but he was pretty damn mean while sober, too. Bobby got a lot of beatings, but most of the abuse ended up raining down on his mom. When Bobby was twelve, well… one day he’d had just about enough. He saw his father beating his mom, over spilled milk or some shit, and Bobby went and fetched a hunting rifle, told his dad to stop or else. Sounds familiar, I bet.”

Wow. Of all the things for Bobby to have in common with Sam.

“Difference is,” John continues, “Ed didn’t stop, then ‘or else’ happened, and that man died in his kitchen.”

“Bobby _killed his dad_?”

“Yep, and if you ask him about it he’ll tell you he’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“Holy shit.”

“Considering Bobby’s experiences with abuse, and considering what you mean to him… I think I got off pretty light. Didn’t even get the rock salt treatment. He came here, demanded the story, _heard_ the story, punched me harder than I’ve ever been punched in my _life,_ and then he took off.”

“Think he’ll tell anyone?”

John shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Kate… I told Kate. Not Adam yet… bunch of guys in AA heard the tale. I’m guessing your boy Cas knows.”

“I swear he’s the first person I—”

“Secrets like that don’t stay buried, kid.”

Dean nods. “No, I guess they don’t.”

  
  


***

  
  


Ruby and Castiel are watching fucking _Mean Girls_ of all things on Dean’s TV when he gets to his apartment, and Castiel is giving her a damn foot rub.

“You’ve had maybe two conversations, and you’re already _foot rub_ friends?” Dean says.

Ruby shrugs. “He’s very likable.”

“He’s never even given _me_ a foot rub!”

“I didn’t know you wanted a foot rub,” Castiel says.

“I don’t.”

“Then why is this a source of envy for you?”

“Dude, I don’t know!” Dean goes to his room to flick the light on and charge the stars, then he comes back out and plops down on the big damn couch he bought.

“So, what’s with Bobby punching your dad?” Ruby says.

Dean sighs. “He uh… I accidentally told him about something my dad did a long time ago, and he reacted strongly.”

“You mean the field trip thing?”

Dean looks at Castiel accusingly, and Castiel rolls his eyes. “Give me some credit, Dean.”

“ _Sam_ told me, you idiot.”

“Oh. Well yeah then, the field trip thing.”

“He had it coming.”

“Jesus Ruby, he doesn’t need to get punched in the face over it. It was fifteen years ago, I’m over it.”

Ruby frowns. “No you’re not.”

Dean glares at Ruby then storms off to his room.

  
  


***

  
  


By the time Castiel comes in half an hour later, Dean is in his night clothes, lying on his bed. He’s holding the ziploc bag with Sam’s lock of hair in one hand. Castiel smiles at him gently and starts undressing.

“What’s in the bag?”

“A lock of my brother’s hair.”

“Ah. I have one of those. For Jimmy. It’s in a little box in my nightstand.”

“Under the pillow for me.”

“I used to do that, but an old boyfriend found it there and I was not at all prepared to talk about it at the time. So I started keeping it elsewhere.”

“Do you have pictures?”

“With me? Just one.” Castiel picks his pants up off the floor and fishes out his wallet. He takes a photo out of one of the flaps, passing it to Dean.

It would be a happy thing to see if Dean didn’t know what one of the boys in this photo is long dead. Jimmy and Castiel are both wearing tan slacks, white button-up shirts, black vests, and blue ties. A school uniform, judging by the small crest on the vests. They’re standing in what might be a park, grinning wide at the camera, both holding corn dogs. For the life of him, Dean can’t tell which boy is Castiel.

Castiel taps the photo, pointing at the twin whose hair is a little messier, tie slightly askew. “That’s me, in case you’re wondering.”

Dean looks at Castiel, then back at the photo. “I’m going to have to take your word for it.” He plucks his phone off the nightstand and holds it up. “May I?”

Castiel smiles and nods, placing the photo flat on the bed so Dean can take a picture of it. “Aside from school photos, every single picture I have of Jimmy, and every picture of me before the age of sixteen, is with the two of us together.”

Dean hands the photo back to Castiel, who tucks it away in his wallet and puts the wallet on top of his pants on the floor. He looks terribly sad all of a sudden. The clothes he was going to change into are at his feet, and he stares at them a moment before turning off the light and crawling into bed in his boxers, wrapping himself around Dean under the glow of Sam’s stars.

“Some days it hurts more than others,” Dean mutters.

“Yes.”

Dean aches at the tears he can feel soaking into his shirt. Today hurts, but there’s always tomorrow.


	30. Chapter 30

Castiel’s alarm goes off and Dean groans. He’s keeping such respectable hours for a man on _vacation._ The alarm is turned off and Dean opens his eyes. Castiel is smiling at him sleepily, looking fairly cheerful for someone that cried himself to sleep last night.

“Do you own a waffle iron?”

“Yeah right.”

“You have two toasters, I don’t think it’s crazy to think you might have a waffle iron. Probably one that makes Hello Kitty shaped waffles.”

“That toaster was an impulse buy!”

“At Target. Yes, I saw them in the store last night.”

“I have a pancake iron if that helps.”

“You mean a frying pan?”

Dean grins. “Yep. Come on, let’s go put some pants on and fry up some bacon.”

  
  


***

  
  


“Woooooah, transplant scar,” Ruby says by way of greeting.

Castiel looks down at his bare chest, grimacing. “I can put on a shirt…”

“Don’t cover up on my account,” Ruby says, winking.

“Get your own,” Dean says, opening the fridge.

“Speaking of, I’m going camping today. Until sometime on Sunday.”

“You’re going _camping_? You camp?”

“It’s been… a while.”

“How long is ‘a while’?”

“I was eleven.”

“Okay, so why are you going camping?”

“Jo invited me. And it’s to give you two some alone time. You’re _welcome_.”

“Thank you, Ruby,” Castiel says.

“Don’t fuck on my bed,” Ruby warns.

Dean pulls a package of bacon out of the fridge. “You mean _my_ couch?”

“Sure.”

Dean grins at Ruby. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll also do my best,” Castiel says.

Ruby narrows her eyes. “Shifty fuckers.”

  
  


***

  
  


Jo comes to get Ruby at ten, and the first thing Castiel says after the door closes is “So, shall we get to fucking on the couch?”

Dean laughs, but shakes his head. “There’s probably a nanny cam hidden in here somewhere.”

Castiel glances around. “Perhaps… what _is_ on your agenda for today?”

“We could sit around in our boxers all day and watch movies? We could find out how the used bookstores in Lawrence pale in comparison to yours? We could go see if my dad has a concussion? We could fuck on the couch? Mini-golf? Movie? Mall?”

“You… actually probably _should_ check on him…”

Dean chuckles. “Don’t worry, I heard him leaving his apartment like half an hour ago.”

“Hmmm… let’s go see a movie, then.”

“Will this be a _chaste_ visit to the movie theater, or will I need mouthwash?”

Castiel’s eyes widen. “I’m uh… not sure. Perhaps we should relieve some… pent up energy before we go, so we’re not tempted to commit any acts of public indecency.”

Dean grins, hopping off the couch and making a beeline for his room. He sprawls out on his bed, lying on his back and batting his eyelashes at Castiel when he comes in. “Are you prepared to ravish me with your love rod, Marcus? I mean… Cas.”

“ _I’m_ Marcus? So, are you Jade in this scenario?”

“I can be.”

“Are you going to be wearing the same silky red negligee she favored in the book?”

Dean feels like half the blood in his body just rushed to his cheeks, the other half to his dick.

“You seem intrigued by that idea,” Castiel says.

“N-no, I don’t.”

“Mhm. I don’t believe you. You know…” Castiel pulls off his sleep pants, giving Dean a nice view of his partially tented boxers. “One of my exes, Bartholomew, he talked me into wearing women’s garments, once.”

Dean feels warm as Castiel sits next to him on the bed. _When_ did it get so warm in here? “Yeah?”

“Yes. A black silk negligee, sheer stockings, a pair of black heels. I even shaved my legs for the occasion.”

“R-really?”

“I was so, so self conscious. I felt so silly. But there was something about lying on my bed with my legs crossed at the ankles… legs rubbing together… feet in those heels… I honestly started to feel attractive. Then sexy. Then powerful. The freedom I felt when I took him… pantyhose pulled down around my thighs, heels leaving scuff marks on the floor… it was electrifying. Have you ever done anything like that, Dean?” Castiel is stroking Dean’s thigh gently, speaking so casually like he’s not getting Dean painfully hard.

Dean swallows thickly. Once again he’s forgotten how to talk. He used to talk all the time, how did that work? Something about opening his mouth and his vocal cords vibrating… fuck he’s so damn hard.

When the words finally come out of Dean’s mouth, his voice sounds thin and raw. “Rhonda Hurley. I was… nineteen. She made me try on her panties. They were pink. And satiny. I kind of liked it.”

Castiel’s fingers find their way to the hard line of Dean’s erection, rubbing at him through his sleep pants.

“I don’t suppose you still have that getup,” Dean says, groaning.

Castiel chuckles. “I’m afraid I disposed of it after our breakup, along with most of the pictures.”

“Pictures? Most of?”

Castiel gets off the bed to retrieve his phone, thumbing through it until he finds what he’s looking for. He holds the phone out for Dean, who takes it nervously.

In the photo Castiel is standing in front of a full length mirror, phone in hand. His expression is carefully blank, but he looks _incredible_ in the garments. The negligee hugs his body so beautifully, Dean nearly drools. His skin looks a little more tan than it is now, his hair is shorter, and there are no visible scars on his chest. Dean is jealous that another man was allowed to see Castiel like this.

“You look…” Dean trails off, too busy tracing the lines of Castiel’s body in the photo.

“Different?”

Dean looks at Castiel, wondering when exactly he got naked. Castiel takes the phone out of Dean’s hand, then crawls back onto the bed, his body on top of Dean’s, then pulls him into a slow, deep kiss.

After a moment, he pulls back. “I don’t suppose _you_ have pictures.”

“Sorry, man. Long time ago,” Dean says, hands tracing the muscles along Castiel’s back.

“Don’t be, I’m quite happy to see you no matter what. Especially like this.”

“Like what?”

“Flushed. Wide-eyed.” Castiel rocks their hips together. “Hard.”

“ _Cas._ ”

Castiel lays a trail of kisses along Dean’s jaw, then bites and tugs at his ear lobe. “Can I fuck you?”

Dean shudders hard as Castiel whispers into his ear, feeling his own precome soak into his boxer-briefs. “Yeah, Cas. We can… you can… yeah.”

Dean can feel Castiel smiling against his jaw, then greedy hands are pulling at his pants and flinging them to the foor. Castiel grins at the damp patch on Dean’s underwear.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbles.

“I don’t believe I said anything.” Castiel moves lower, mouthing at the slick patch of cotton for a moment, then he’s pulling back, opening the small drawer in Dean’s nightstand while Dean takes the opportunity to shed his remaining clothes. “Tell me,” Castiel says, opening the bottle of lube, “do you have any other kinks and fetishes besides women’s undergarments?”

“I uh…” Dean watches as Castiel squirts some lube into his palm, parting his legs. “I guess?”

Fingers trail down Dean’s cock, past his balls, along his perineum, then there’s a finger gently rubbing at his hole.

“Like what?” Castiel says softly. Right now he’s just rubbing with that one slick finger, crouched between Dean’s legs, looking up at him with an open expression.

“My last girlfriend, uh… she got some novelty handcuffs in a bachelorette party gift bag once. She’d use them on me sometimes and then suck me off.”

“And you enjoyed it?” The tip of Castiel’s finger presses in and Dean gasps, then nods.

“Yeah… mostly.”

Castiel is slowly thrusting his finger, and Dean feels it go a little deeper each time. “Just mostly?”

“Sometimes I had a uh… when we did that, I’d get this craving I guess. I’d wish that she’d be rougher. Manhandle me. Play with my ass.”

“But you were afraid to ask for that.”

“I was too afraid she’d say no and I’d be left feeling embarrassed. I didn’t wanna feel like that. I mean she wouldn’t have pointed and laughed at me or anything, but I still would have felt…”

“Rejected.”

“Yeah. So sometimes I’d fantasize while she had me cuffed.”

“Mhm, about what?”

“I’d think about what it’d be like if she were fucking me with a strap on, spanking me, gagging me… weird stuff like that.”

“That’s not weird at all.”

Dean lets out a little whine as Castiel adds a second finger, too excited at the stretch to hold himself back. “Have you done that kind of stuff? Gags or whatever?”

Castiel bends forward to lap at the precome on Dean’s cock and Dean moans, rocking his hips. “A few times,” Castiel says. “Never at my own request though. Like you, I felt frightened by the prospect of asking for something like that.”

“You don’t seem frightened to me.”

Castiel twists his fingers, scissoring them apart. “I feel safe with you. I’m not afraid you’ll reject me, or mock me, or find me disquieting.”

“I uh… I feel safe around you too.”

“I can tell. You’re relaxing around my fingers so quickly, Dean.”

Castiel’s fingers rub at Dean’s prostate and Dean’s arching off the bed, letting out high, breathless gasps. “Oh God, Cas, _Cas_.”

“There was a man, years ago. Tamiel. He bound me in his apartment, once. Nothing too fancy. He had these long, red ribbons… satin, I think. He wound one around my eyes, used another to gag me, and one to bind my wrists behind my back.”

Castiel stops to drizzle more lube on his hand, and then Dean is groaning at the third finger breaching him.

“He had me bent over his dining room table, my feet wide apart, one of his hands gripping the back of my head…” Castiel’s fingers are thrusting a little harder now, and Dean’s hips jerk slightly each time he feels them brush against his prostate. “He fucked me so _hard,_ Dean.”

A hot burst of adrenaline runs through Dean and his hand rushes down to his cock, squeezing at the base, desperate to cut off the orgasm trying to creep up on him. _Fuck_.

Dean wouldn’t have thought hearing about his boyfriend’s past sexual encounters would be much of a turn on. But it is, because it’s not about those men, it’s about Castiel, and the things he wants Dean to imagine him doing.

“You’re getting so excited… you’re incredible,” Castiel murmurs.

“Yeah well, guess you’re a good storyteller. You only did the ribbon thing once?”

Castiel smiles, spreading his fingers apart inside Dean’s ass. “He wasn’t a very nice person, there weren’t enough ribbons in the world to make up for that. I do think I would enjoy trying that again sometime… with you.”

Dean’s rocking back onto Castiel’s fingers, outright panting at the image in his mind right now. Castiel in his black nightie and stockings, heels digging into Dean’s carpet, moaning into his gag while Dean fucks him over the arm of his couch, red ribbons digging into Castiel’s wrists. Castiel is working his pinky in alongside his fingers, stretching Dean wider. If he so much as _looks_ at Dean’s dick, Dean’s going to come, he just knows it.

“You’re picturing it now,” Castiel says.

“Yeah.”

“Well, we do have the apartment to ourselves for the next two days, who knows what we’ll get up to?”

“Cas, _please._ ”

Castiel bends forward, kissing Dean’s hip. “Please what?”

“Fuck me.”

“I can do that.” Castiel pulls his hand free, and Dean scrambles up onto his hands and knees.

“Like this. Want it hard, Cas.”

“ _Dean_.”

Dean listens eagerly to the sound of Castiel opening the box of condoms, and the wrapper of a condom being torn. Then Castiel is kneeling behind him, pressing the head of his dick against Dean’s hole. “I’ll start slow, alright?”

“Okay. I’m ready. Need it.”

Castiel rubs his cock in teasing little circles around Dean’s rim, sighing happily. Dean’s heart is beating so hard it’s a wonder Castiel can’t somehow hear it. Castiel presses against Dean’s hole again, this time with intent, and Dean’s dick twitches almost painfully hard as Castiel starts to push. He enters Dean almost torturously slow, one hand digging into Dean’s hip. Dean moves his knees a bit farther apart, tilting his hips back and moaning as his muscles stretch to let Castiel inside.

Castiel’s hips bump against Dean’s ass, and then there are gentle hands stroking along Dean’s sides. “You feel so, so good, Dean.”

“ _Castiel_ ,” Dean hisses, fingers clenching at the sheets.

True to his word, Castiel starts slow, giving Dean’s body time to adjust. He rolls his hips at a slow, gentle pace, stopping every so often to bend forward and kiss whatever part of Dean he can reach. Dean’s just starting to relax into the rhythm when he feels Castiel grip his hips.

“Still want it hard?” Castiel says, voice a little tense.

Dean groans, reaching down to stroke himself a few times as Castiel’s thrusts grow a little bit quicker, a little bit sharper. “Yeah, fucking fuck me Cas, make me feel you everywhere.”

Castiel complies, fucking into Dean with hard, fast rolls of his hips. He’s letting out these sexy little gasps and grunts of exertion, and one of his hands leaves Dean’s hip to wrap around his shoulder, pulling him into each hard thrust. Fuck, it’s amazing, and just what Dean wanted, but now he wants even more.

“Stop, Cas,” he groans. Castiel stops immediately. So _obedient._ “On your back.”

The hand on his hip squeezes once, then Castiel is slowly pulling free and getting onto his back. Dean wastes no time before he’s straddling Castiel, holding his dick so he can sink down onto it.

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel whimpers.

Dean rocks his hips once he’s fully seated, groaning at the pressure on his prostate. Castiel’s looking up at him, eyes so wide and blue and stunned. That last position definitely had a disadvantage; Dean couldn’t see how absolutely _wrecked_ Castiel is. This is good, but still not quite…

Castiel sits up then, pulling Dean into a desperate kiss. _Yes._ Dean works his hips, fucking himself on Castiel’s cock as fast as he can without breaking their kiss. Castiel’s arms are wrapped tight around him, holding him close, making little thrusts every time Dean lifts his hips. Long thrusts are out with this position and with how tightly they’re clinging to each other, but Castiel is so fucking deep, and the closeness of their bodies is giving Dean’s dick quite a good bit of friction.

Dean’s never exactly been _quiet_ in bed, but he’s certainly never been like this; overwhelmed, crying out with each slam of their bodies. Even the moments they shared before weren’t like this, and things were already _intense_ with Castiel. Dean’s eyes are watering, and he buries his face in Castiel’s shoulder, knowing Castiel can feel the wetness coming from his eyes.

“Dean,” Castiel mutters, voice beyond destroyed.

“Don’t stop,” Dean begs into the salty skin of Castiel’s shoulder.

“I won’t, Dean.”

Dean has absolutely no idea how they got here; how they went from Castiel’s playful, sexy dirty talk to Dean feeling so much connection and pleasure he can barely stand it. Dean lifts his head, bringing their mouths back together as he feels his body start to tense with an impending orgasm.

“Gonna come,” he mutters brokenly between kisses, “just like this.”

Castiel grips Dean impossibly tighter, outright fucking Dean’s mouth with his tongue. It only takes a few more rolls of Dean’s hips before he’s coming, whimpering as his fingernails dig into Castiel’s back. He hadn’t realized how close Castiel was to coming, but as soon as his release spatters between them Castiel is throwing his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he shouts Dean’s name at the ceiling.

Over a minute passes. Their panting starts to slow, while Dean and Castiel do nothing but stare at each other. Castiel looks so… _startled,_ and Dean assumes his own face looks the same. Dean doesn’t know what to say. He’s never fucking _cried_ during sex before. Then again, Castiel’s eyes are full of tears too, so it’s not like they’re in an unbalanced situation, here. He’s just a little surprised to find himself at the end of what could probably be described as “passionate lovemaking”. His hands slowly release Castiel’s back, and his fingers feel cramped from how tightly he was holding on.

He reaches up, wiping Castiel’s tears with his thumbs, then lifting himself slightly so Castiel can pull out of him. The condom gets tied off and thrown in the wastebasket, but neither of them moves to clean the sweat, come, and tears cooling on their bodies. Instead, Castiel stretches his legs out and lies back on the bed while Dean lies on top of him, ear pressed against his chest. Dean falls asleep to the feeling of fingers carding through his hair, and the sound of Sam’s heart beating away, working to sustain this man Dean realizes he’s fallen in love with.


	31. Chapter 31

Within an hour they’re awake again, crammed into Dean’s small bathtub and enjoying a bubble bath courtesy of some stuff Ruby had sitting under Dean’s sink. If Dean hadn’t just experienced an energy-sucking orgasm he’d be hard again from having Castiel’s naked ass in the vee of his legs. As it is though, things are just… pleasant.

Dean runs a thumb along the faint scratches on Castiel’s shoulder blades. “Whoops.”

“Don’t worry, they don’t really hurt.”

“Really?”

“I suppose they sting a bit. I don’t suppose you have any Neosporin…”

“Please.”

“You never know.”

“I can take you to the store when we’re done? Maybe we could grab some food somewhere? We haven’t had lunch yet. Kinda worked up an appetite,” Dean says, grinning into Castiel’s hair.

“ _Or,_ ” Castiel says, rocking his ass back against Dean. Dean grunts softly at the spark of arousal he feels. Okay maybe it’s _not_ too soon for him to go again.

“Yeah?”

Castiel chuckles. “No, I really am pretty hungry.”

“You’re a beast, Cas.”

“So they tell me.”

Neither makes a move to end their bath just yet, or even get clean. They just relax, enjoying the hot water and the soothing scent of raspberries from the bubble bath. Dean even starts to doze a little.

“It’s going to be hard going back to Des Moines and being without this,” Castiel says suddenly.

Dean kisses Castiel’s hair. “As it happens, I have a ton of gas money and I love being in my car. Can I um… next weekend, I could…”

Castiel sighs happily. “Yes. If you’re not tired of me by Sunday.” Castiel chuckles as he says this, but Dean can hear the very real insecurity underneath.

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen, Cas,” Dean says, hugging him close. “I don’t know if you remember me mentioning this, but I met a psychic in Colorado Springs, at Charlie’s coronation.”

“I wasn’t aware you believed in—”

“I don’t. I _don’t_. But she walked up to me, got a real sad look on her face, and told me she was so sorry about my brother. And dude… she didn’t know me, none of the people there knew about Sam… she just… knew. And I believed her, and I don’t believe in damn _psychics_.”

“Wow, that’s… that must have been… alarming.”

“Um, _yeah_. A total stranger knew about Sam, I was pretty freaked. She told me Sammy was in a good place now. She also said… she told me I’d be so glad I went on this trip… that good things were waiting for me. And they were. _You_ were.”

“Dean...”

“I am so, so glad I went on that trip, Cas.”

Dean can’t help but smile to himself at the little sniffle he hears coming from Castiel.

  


***

  


They eat lunch at Sandwich Bowl, buy Neosporin for Castiel, and they’re back at Dean’s apartment in their pajama pants by two.

Castiel lies on his stomach on Dean’s bed, head pillowed in his arms as Dean works a thin, cool layer of Neosporin into the scratches on his back.

“This is my first sex related injury,” Castiel mumbles, sounding half awake.

“I wouldn’t call this an _injury._ This is a booboo. I _barely_ broke the skin.”

“Mhmm, well in my world any injury or _booboo_ must be tended well. Bacteria and all that.”

Dean frowns. “Should we have gotten some big bandages to cover this?”

Castiel chuckles. “A clean shirt will be fine.”

Dean kisses the back of Castiel’s neck, and he shudders. “I’ll try not to dig in so deep next time you’re fucking me, baby.”

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel groans. He starts to get up and Dean pushes him back down.

“Ah, ah, ah, Cas. Gotta let it set in a little. Work its antibacterial magic.”

“It can dry while I’m on top of you,” Castiel says, sounding adorably disgruntled.

“Honestly, Cas, I don’t know if I’m ready to have sex again just yet. That was… well, a doozy.” Dean lies on his side next to Castiel, who turns his head to face him.

“Doozy is a good word. I’ve never had an encounter quite like that.”

“Yeah, uh… me neither. It was… a lot. I wasn’t really expecting that. Might need just a _few_ more hours before I’m ready for another round.”

“You enjoyed it though, right?”

“I don’t make noises like that when I’m having a _bad_ time, Cas.”

Castiel huffs out a laugh. “Just checking.”

“Bet you just want some ego stroking,” Dean says. He leans close, whispering into Castiel’s ear. “You made me come so hard, _Castiel_ , feeling that big dick of yours inside me… the first time I’ve been fucked by a man in over a decade and you blew my _mind_.”

Dean pulls away, smirking in satisfaction at the blush he sees staining Castiel’s cheeks.

  


***

  


“I’ve been wondering something,” Dean says.

They’re on Dean’s bed, watching the end credits for Boondock Saints on Sam’s laptop and sharing a bag of gummy worms.

“Yes?”

“Back in Cheyenne… I came out of the shower and you were sitting with Ruby and blushing like _crazy_. What the hell were you guys talking about?”

Castiel hand stalls in the bag of gummy worms. “Ruby is ah… crass at times.”

“No shit.”

“I think she was bored and wanted to have a bit of fun with me.”

“Uh huh, and?”

“She was talking about you and Sam a bit, how alike you were in some ways.”

“Oh… kay?”

“She mentioned that your brother was… _phallically gifted_ , and talented with his tongue…”

“Oh, sweet merciful fuck.”

“And she asked if you had that in common with him as well. You came out before I responded.”

“I am so, so, _so_ sorry I asked,” Dean says, face in his hands.

“Yes,” Castiel says, “I thought you would be.”

  


***

  


“Hey.”

Castiel pauses in giving Dean the footrub Dean decided he needed to have. “Hmm?”

“We were gonna go see a movie.”

Castiel grins and chuckles. “Ah, that’s right. I take it that’s still of interest to you?”

“Dinner and a movie!”

“Well… under one condition.”

“Sure.”

“I want to see you in the suit you bought in Nebraska.”

“What? Why?”

“The heart wants what it wants.”

Dean raises his eyebrows and Castiel grimaces.

“My metaphorical heart.”

Dean grins wide and pats Castiel on the shoulder before standing up. “I know what you meant, baby.”

  


***

  


Dean comes out of the bathroom suited up, hair teased into something a little more lively. He looks good, can tell by the way Castiel is biting his lip at the sight of him.

“Something on your mind?” Dean says, winking.

Castiel looks down at his own outfit; black slacks and Dean’s other white oxford, untucked. “Several things… like how out of my league you are.”

“Dude, it’s just a suit. I once spent three weeks eating Hot Pockets for every single meal, I’m not out of _anyone’s_ league.”

Castiel wrinkles his nose. “Even for breakfast?”

“They come in breakfast flavors!”

Castiel reaches out to straighten Dean’s tie. “Gabriel always bought ham and cheese ones. Over and over. I grew to loathe the scent of them.”

“Now that’s just a damn shame, there’s a whole _world_ of flavors he could have been enjoying. Pepperoni Pizza, Cheeseburger, Chicken and Bacon Cheddar Cheese Melt, Sausage Egg and Cheese, Steak and Cheddar, Meatballs and Mozzarella, Roasted Turkey Bacon and Cheese, Three Cheese and Spinach, Bacon Egg and Cheese, Chicken Parmesan… and a bunch of others I forgot.”

Castiel pats Dean’s cheek. “You’re so pretty.”

“You’re mean! I’m just sharing my passion with you!”

Castiel pouts. “I apologize for my rudeness, sir. Please don’t spank me.” Castiel bites his lip again, this time smirking.

“Hey, no. No. _Bad_ Cas, not right before we’re leaving.”

“I can’t help it. The suit gives me… ideas. You’d look amazing fucking me in that suit. I should have brought Gabriel’s digital camera… and his tripod…”

Dean groans, fighting against the urge to reach down and stroke himself. “Well that’s going on my bucket list.”

“You… really want to take photos of us having sex?”

“What can I say? You make me think about doing things I never would have considered before.”

“Oh, really? Like what?”

“Like going to movie in a suit, for one.” Dean takes his phone out of his pocket. “Speaking of pictures…” He pulls Castiel close, grinning as he holds his arm out and snaps a photo. Castiel isn’t totally facing the camera, instead he’s more staring at Dean and looking mildly startled while Dean’s smiling into the camera. It’s kind of perfect. Dean sets it as his phone’s background, replacing the photo of them sleeping.

“There’s another thing I wouldn’t have considered before,” Dean says, smiling at his phone.

“Okay,” Castiel says, looking at the photo, “let’s go before I start crying.”

  


*******

  


They eat dinner at 715 Restaurant, which is slightly classier than Dean’s usual places, but he’s still the only one in a suit. They spend their dinner playing footsie under the table, stealing bites from each other’s plates, and shooting each other coy grins. If Dean were seeing someone else act this sweet and lovey he’d probably lose his appetite, but as a participant, he loves the shit out of it.

  


***

  


The movie they end up seeing is Ant-Man. It’s… okay, Dean supposes. He’s barely paying attention, though. His mind is on that IMAX theater back in Des Moines… how much he’d wanted to touch Castiel, how excited he was when their arms brushed together. As if sensing Dean’s thoughts, Castiel lifts the armrest separating them and cuddles close, sighing happily. Dean grins, slipping an arm around him.

A few minutes pass. Dean watches the movie, but since he wasn’t paying any attention for the first forty-five minutes, he’s a bit lost.

Castiel sits up to whisper in Dean’s ear. “It’s almost time for me to take my medication, I’ll be right back.”

Dean nods, giving Castiel a quick peck on the cheek before he gets up and makes his way out of their row.

Over fifteen minutes pass, which seems like more than enough time for Castiel to have found a drinking fountain and taken his pills. He’s just starting to feel a little worried when Castiel returns, settling in next to him and leaning close.

“I just spent about ten minutes fingering myself open, would you like to have sex in the bathroom?”

Dean can’t help but glance around, like someone might have heard Castiel’s weirdly polite proposition. He turns his head toward Castiel, nodding slowly. Castiel smiles then stands, making his way back out of the row with Dean close behind him.

They walk briskly out of their theater and toward the bathroom, and Dean’s eyes are on Castiel’s ass the entire time. There’s a “family” restroom in between the men’s and women’s areas, and Castiel pulls Dean inside, locking the door behind them.

“Pretty sure that’s not what this room is for, Cas,” Dean says nervously.

Castiel leans against the door. “True.”

“My suit’s gonna get messed up.”

“Yes, it is,” Castiel says, stepping forward. His fingers slip under the edges of Dean’s waistcoat to unbutton his pants. “Would you like to go back to the movie, Dean?”

“No, not really,” Dean says, staring at Castiel’s mouth.

Castiel slowly pulls Dean’s zipper down. “Would you like to leave?”

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

Castiel hooks a finger in the waistband of Dean’s boxer-briefs, tugging him forward. This is so bizarre. It’s a restroom. It smells like chemical lemons, and Castiel’s probably absorbing bacteria by the second, but Dean is still _painfully_ aroused. He crushes their mouths together, backing Castiel into the door, narrowly missing the handle. Castiel’s mouth opens immediately for Dean’s tongue and he grinds their erections together through far too many layers of fabric.

Dean’s hands slide down the back of Castiel’s pants, gripping at the firm flesh and nipping gently at Castiel’s neck. “Feel so fuckin’ good.”

Castiel steers Dean towards the sink and pulls a condom and their new bottle of lube out of his pants pocket, setting them on the counter.

“So you planned ahead then,” Dean says.

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean.”

Dean eyes the counter. “How clean do you think this is?”

“Are you serious?”

“ _Immunosuppressants,_ Cas.”

“A janitor was in here before me, and I doubt it saw heavy use in the four minutes it took me to come get you.”

“I just don’t want…”

“I know, Dean,” Castiel says, rubbing Dean’s side soothingly. “My plan had been to get you to fuck me in your car after the movie… but I saw the janitor leaving…” Castiel shrugs.

“You’re just _full_ of ideas tonight, aren’t you? Hands on the counter, Cas.”

Castiel turns, bracing himself against the counter. Dean crowds up behind him, unbuttoning his slacks and yanking them down with his boxers. He looks up at the mirror over the sink, smirking at Castiel’s excited reflection.

“Just had this all planned out, didn’t you?”

“A little.”

Dean drags a thumb down the cleft of Castiel’s ass, down to where he’s still slick and stretched. He tuts. “This won’t do.”

“Should’ve been faster,” Castiel says, shooting a challenging glare at Dean in the mirror.

“Sassy…” Dean slaps his ass hard, and Castiel yelps. He grabs the lube off the counter and passes it to Dean, hand trembling mildly. Dean knows it’s probably Castiel’s medications causing the tremor, but he likes to think Castiel is just that aroused.

He squirts some lube into his palm, rubbing it a little with a few fingers, trying to warm it up a bit. If he doesn’t get lube on this suit it’ll be a miracle. He presses two fingers into Castiel straight away, scissoring them apart when they go in easily.

“Come _on,_ Dean.”

Dean slaps Castiel’s ass in reply, snickering at the smear of lube that gets left there. “You know, I have half a mind to punish you for your impatience, Cas.”

“And the other half of your mind?”

“The other half is impatient too.” Dean pushes in with a third finger, spreading them as far as he can and thrusting hard.

“Which half is stronger?” Castiel asks, rocking against Dean’s fingers.

“The half that gets to fuck you sooner.” Dean grins at the mild shudder he sees running through Castiel’s body. “God, you want it so bad, don’t you? You’re just desperate to know how my dick feels?”

“You certainly are mouthier than you were when I had you on your back with _my_ fingers in you. You weren’t saying much other than begging me to fuck you.”

Dean flushes with aroused and embarrassed warmth, rubbing his fingers against Castiel’s prostate in “retaliation” with one hand, stroking Castiel’s cock with the other. “Maybe I should make you come just like this, since you’re being so _rude_ to me.”

Castiel shakes his head. “No, that sounds like a terrible idea.”

Dean pulls his hand away and grabs the condom, carefully tearing it open with his teeth. “Maybe it’s your turn to beg, then.” He looks up from rolling the condom on, grinning at Castiel’s incredulous reflection.

“I can’t just start begging on command, you have to make me beg.”

“I _am_ making you beg.”

“Interesting. Perhaps then, Dean, I don’t need your cock. Maybe I just want to go back and watch Paul Rudd commune with ants. Maybe I don’t need you to bend me over this sink, Dean. Maybe I don’t need you to feel how warm and _tight_ I am.”

Oh, fuck. Dean has waltzed himself into a battle he has absolutely _zero_ hope of winning. “Maybe you don’t,” Dean says with a transparent lack of conviction. He’s already lost and they both know it.

“Maybe I don’t need our bodies crashing together, or your hands on my hips, or you moaning my name.”

Yep, screw this. Dean lines up with Castiel’s hole and pushes in, slow but relentless until he’s all the way inside.

Castiel’s reflection is mildly stunned, but still smug. “You caved pretty easily.”

“Shut up.”

Castiel grins at Dean through the mirror. “Make me.”

Dean stalls, hips pressed against Castiel’s ass, dick ready for a workout. He loosens his tie, careful not to fuck up Gavin’s knot, then slips it over Castiel’s head. Castiel’s eyes are wide, but he opens his mouth and lets Dean gag him and pull the tie tight.

Castiel’s hair is messed up now, his eyes wild, mouth open around Dean’s tie. It’s such a good look for him. Dean takes his phone out. “Can I?”

Castiel nods slowly, eyes trained on the phone in the mirror. Dean takes three photos. The first is of their reflection, Dean smirking down at Castiel, whose eyes are closed in a sudden burst of shyness. The second photo is just of the back of Castiel’s head, the way the knot of Dean’s tie is pressed against it. The third photo is of Dean’s dick disappearing into Castiel’s stretched hole, the barest hint of Dean’s handprint still visible on his ass.

The pictures aren’t the best quality, but Dean’s pretty sure he’s going to be looking at them every time he jerks himself off for a long, long time. He slips the phone back in his pants pocket, then smooths his hands along Castiel’s bare hips. He traces a finger along Castiel’s rim, feeling where it’s stretched around his cock. Castiel says something, but it comes out fairly unintelligible.

“Yeah, I’ve got no idea what you just said, baby,” Dean says. Castiel pushes his ass against Dean, who grins. “Hm? What was that?”

Castiel starts to reach up to move the tie and Dean grabs his hand, holding it down on the counter. He pulls his hips back slowly, and with his free hand locked on Castiel’s hip he shoves back in hard, forcing a loud moan out of Castiel. Dean sets a hard pace, and Castiel seems to love it, crying out with each rough shove, bracing himself against the counter and meeting Dean’s thrusts halfway.

“You’re a kinky fuck, you know that?” Dean says, panting. Castiel says more gibberish into the tie, and Dean uses the hand not holding Castiel’s hip to reach for Castiel’s dick, which is hard and wet and hot in Dean’s hand. “God, look at that,” he says, stroking Castiel, slowing his thrusts, “you’re getting close, already, aren’t you?”

Even with the tie in his mouth, Castiel’s moan of Dean’s name is unmistakable. Dean rubs against the head of Castiel’s cock and Castiel shudders, clenching around Dean’s dick and moaning, eyes squeezed shut.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good, not gonna last long at all,” Dean moans.

Castiel pulls away from Dean entirely, kicking off his shoes, pants, and boxers, then hoisting himself up on the counter, legs open for Dean to get between them. When Dean gets close enough Castiel wraps his legs around him, scooting so far off the edge of the counter he can’t possibly be comfortable, but what’s important is Dean can reach down and push his cock back into that tight ring of muscle. He can’t thrust nearly as hard like this, their position is far too precarious, but he _can_ reach up and pull the tie loose until it falls from Castiel’s mouth and dangles from his neck.

“Dean…”

“Yeah, baby, hey…”

Dean crushes their mouths together, and he feels it again, a buildup of emotions he is not at all used to encountering during sex. He knows Castiel feels it too, can tell by the hungry and frightened look on his face. Dean slows his thrusts, kissing Castiel’s cheeks, then the tip of his nose, then his lips. Castiel’s fingers thread into Dean’s hair, and they fall into a slow, deep kiss. They’re doing it again. _Making love,_ when Dean can’t even say that phrase out loud without getting uncomfortable. Castiel is whimpering into the kiss and Dean reaches between their bodies, wrapping a hand around Castiel’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts.

The hot, frantic energy of before is gone, but Dean’s still getting close to coming. He pulls away from the kiss to ask if Castiel is close, but instead what comes out is “I think I’m kinda falling in love with you”.

“Oh… oh God.” Castiel tenses and at first Dean thinks he’s freaked him out, but then Castiel is crying out, coming onto Dean’s hand and the front of his waistcoat. Dean’s shaking, holding onto Castiel for dear life and only managing a few more rolls of his hips before he’s sobbing his orgasm into Castiel’s shoulder.

A few minutes pass, neither of them really moving. Dean slowly becomes aware of his surroundings again; the fluorescent light overhead, that chemical lemon smell, the sound of excited chatter as one of the movies lets out.

“My tailbone is starting to hurt quite a bit,” Castiel mutters.

Dean nods, stepping back so Castiel can get off the counter. They’re both kind of a mess. Castiel’s hair is wrecked, he’s only wearing a shirt, and there’s a faint redness around his mouth from Dean’s tie being pulled so tight. Dean looks down as he removes the condom. He probably wouldn’t look like a mess if it weren’t for Castiel’s come on the right sleeve of his suit jacket and all over the front of his waistcoat.

“Probably can’t just throw these in the washing machine at my apartment, huh?” Dean says.

Castiel chuckles. “Not if you’re planning on ever wearing them again. Which you should. Often.”

They work to clean themselves up, cleaning what they can off of fabric and body parts. Dean balls up his tie, waistcoat, and suit jacket. They look… ruffled. Dean likes it.

When they finally step out of the restroom, there’s a young woman there with two children and a toddler, tapping away on her phone.

She glances up at them. “You didn’t do it on the changing table, did you?”

“Uh, n-no ma’am,” Dean says, embarrassed.

The woman smirks. “Alrighty.” She gives them a cheeky thumbs up, then ushers the kids into the restroom.

“Well,” Castiel says, “that was humiliating.”

“Let’s just be glad she didn’t call a manager or the cops or something.”

  


***

  


The journey back to Dean’s apartment is… quiet. Dean wants to believe Castiel is just embarrassed or tired, but he’s a little worried that his mid-coital confession has Castiel freaked out.

They get back to the apartment, and Dean goes to flick on the light in his room while Castiel sets his phone, the lube, and his empty pill baggie on the nightstand.

He turns to Dean, looking a little scared. “Did you mean it?” Dean doesn’t even have to ask what Castiel’s referring to. “Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, people… they say things they don’t really mean. I’d… it’s okay if…”

Dean frowns at the way Castiel is staring at the floor like Dean’s about to _reject_ him or something. He crouches slightly until he’s in Castiel’s line of sight, then stands up straight when they make eye contact. “Hey. I meant it, Cas.”

Castiel more or less flings himself at Dean then, kissing him over and over as they topple onto the bed.

“So,” Dean says between kisses, “it’s cool with you, then?”

“Yes, it’s very _cool_ with me.”

Dean grins, nuzzling at Castiel’s neck. “Cool.”

  


***

  


“Dean.”

“ _Dean._ ”

“Dean, wake up.”

Dean groans, looking up at the ceiling. The light has been off for a few hours, the stars on the ceiling have dimmed. “Cas? You okay?”

“I think so.”

Dean rolls onto his side, then reaches out to stroke Castiel’s cheek. “What’s up?”

“I’m kind of falling in love with you too.”

Dean halts in his movements. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Dean pulls Castiel close, holding him tight. “Cool.”


	32. Chapter 32

Dean startles awake to the sound of his front door closing. A quick glance at his phone tells him it’s almost nine. Castiel’s not in the bed with him so he groans, climbing out of bed and padding out to the front room. Castiel is stretching, in a t-shirt and what looks like Dean’s old sweatpants. He’s glowing with a fine sheen of sweat, cheeks a little red. It’s a very, very appealing look.

“Uh, hi,” Dean says.

Castiel smiles. “Good morning, Dean.”

“You look…”

“I woke up early… couldn’t get back to sleep, so… I went for a jog after I took my pills.” Castiel stretches his arms over his head, and Dean’s eyes are glued to the stretch of skin he can see as the t-shirt lifts slightly. “It’s been a few too many days since I went for a jog, it’s important to keep active.” He pauses in his stretching, smiling mischievously at Dean. “Not that we weren’t plenty active yesterday.”

“So, uh… um… you, run a lot?”

“Not a _lot_ I suppose, but some. Do you ever run?”

Dean snorts. “No.”

Castiel pops his neck. “We’ll have to work on that.”

“Oh, I see how it is. We get a little serious and now you’re gonna try to _change_ me,” Dean says, smirking.

If Castiel rolled his eyes any harder they’d probably fall out of his head. “Cardio exercise has many benefits. It reduces stress, increases heart, muscle, and bone health, lowers risk of diabetes, and improves blood pressure, among many other things.”

“Huh. Well if it makes you feel any better, before my trip I was walking to and from work every weekday for months because I was afraid to drive.”

“Good? I want you to live a long, healthy life, Dean. I’ve grown rather fond of you.”

Dean steps forward, into Castiel’s space. “Fond, huh?”

“Mildly, slightly attached.”

Dean moves a little closer. “Mildly, slightly attached?”

Castiel is staring at Dean’s lips. “I find it troubling to imagine my life without you in it.”

Someone whimpers, maybe Dean, and then they’re kissing, hands all over each other while they stagger over to the couch. The partial erection Dean woke up with is at full mast, and he grinds it against Castiel before pushing him onto the couch and climbing on top of him.

“I believe,” Castiel starts, groaning when their cocks rub together. “I believe we were instructed not to have sex on this couch.”

Dean licks at the sweat-damp skin near Castiel’s neck, finding he oddly likes the taste. “Were we?” He bites down, enjoying the way Castiel moans and jerks his hips.

“Yes, Dean.”

“Hmm, that’s interesting,” Dean says, rolling his hips between Castiel’s spread legs. “And yet somehow not enough to make me want to stop.”

“There are condoms and lubrication in your bedroom.”

Dean grins and stands, holding out a hand to pull Castiel to his feet. “Now _that_ is how you motivate someone.”

 

***

 

A short time later they’re on Dean’s bed, clothes abandoned on the floor.

“I think I could spend the whole day like this.”

Dean’s on his back, two pillows propping up his hips and three of Castiel’s slicked up fingers buried in his ass. “I wouldn’t object,” Dean says, moaning when he feels the fingers rub against his prostate. “Although I kind of wanted to do a uh… picnic kind of thing. At Centennial.”

“That sounds like a lovely idea, Dean.”

“Yeah, well don’t tell anyone. Might hurt my reputation as a man’s man and all that.”

Castiel chuckles, slowly pulling his fingers out of Dean’s body. “I’m sure your hoodies and your phone have already cemented your butch reputation.”

“Are you gonna make fun of my awesome sense of style, or are you gonna fuck me?”

“I’m fairly certain I can do both,” Castiel says, tearing open a condom package and rolling it onto his cock. “I’m skilled like that.”

“Just for that, I’m making you wear one the next time we go out to dinner. We’ll wear them _together_ at some fancy schmancy upscale place in your city.”

Castiel rubs his cock along Dean’s balls, then teases his rim with blunt pressure. “Another romantic idea. Do I get to choose which one I wear?”

“Sure, darlin’.”

Castiel snorts. “ _Darlin’_.”

“Sweetheart? Baby? Sugar lips? Honey b— ohhhh…” Dean groans, toes curling as Castiel pushes his cock inside.

Castiel smiles down at Dean. “Definitely no to ‘sugar lips’. I like it when you call me baby, though.” He leans forward to kiss Dean on the cheek. “And sweetheart.” Another kiss on the other cheek. “And Cas.”

“Well I like when you call me Dean. And ‘oh God’, that’s a good nickname too.” Dean’s legs fall open as Castiel starts to move his hips in slow, teasing rolls.

“Dean… so good.”

“Fuck,” Dean says, stroking himself absently.

They lock eyes, and that’s it. The world around Dean starts melting away, piece by piece. The sound of occasional traffic outside, a man and a woman arguing loudly next door, the world beyond Dean’s bed fades away. Castiel gets one arm underneath Dean’s right leg, holding him open while he starts to move his body with purpose. Dean’s feeling so much it almost hurts to look at Castiel, but he keeps his eyes on him, drinks in that wide, vulnerable look in his eyes.

“I’ve never had sex feel like this before,” Dean blurts out.

Castiel slows, letting Dean’s leg fall back on the bed so he can lean forward and kiss him. “I haven’t either. It’s a little terrifying, isn’t it…”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“Are you crazy?”

“Just checking.” Castiel straightens up, grabbing Dean’s ass and pulling him into several hard, nerve shattering thrusts, and Dean finally breaks their eye contact to throw his head back, crying out with each hard movement.

“Yeah, Cas. Fuckin’ give it to me, _fuck_.” Dean stretches his arms over his head, bracing himself against the wall so he can rock back against Castiel. The sound of their bodies slapping together so loudly is just getting Dean more excited, his moans getting louder the harder Castiel fucks into him. He’s not going to last long at all.

“Look at me,” Castiel growls.

Dean’s eyes pop open, locking onto Castiel’s intense, blue gaze immediately, body already starting to tense. “See you, Cas,” he mutters.

Castiel’s hands smooth up along Dean’s body, their gentleness at odds with the way Castiel is all but slamming into Dean. The hands stop at Dean’s chest, teasing and toying with Dean’s nipples.

“Shit.” Dean’s panting, feeling flushed as his balls tighten. Even now Dean’s maintaining eye contact, and it’s so overwhelming Dean feels ready to break into a thousand pieces. “Cas, _Cas,_ gonna…”

“Yes, _please._ So close, Dean.” Castiel’s fingers pinch hard at Dean’s nipples and Dean shouts, still staring into Castiel’s eyes as he comes untouched between them.

Apparently Castiel was _really_ close because almost immediately he’s letting out a wounded-sounding moan, toppling right over the edge after Dean. He pulls himself out of Dean so he can collapse on the bed next to him, breathing heavily.

“Mmm, yeah,” Dean says, still breathing hard, “love that cardio.”

 

***

 

After a shower and a quick nap they’re off to the store. They buy soda for Dean, flavored sparkling water for Castiel, a bag of chips, some packaged fruit pies, napkins, and a checkered flannel top sheet that Dean figures is close enough to a checkered blanket. After that they pick up a five dollar pre-made pepperoni pizza from Little Caesar’s, and then they’re off to Centennial Park.

Castiel is practically giddy when he spots a large tree with a nice, clear and shady patch of grass around it, pointing excitedly.

“You act like you’ve never done this before,” Dean says.

Castiel smiles shyly as he and Dean unfold their sheet onto the grass. “I have… but never on a date. Just a few picnics with my sister.”

“Well, shit. Maybe we should have gone with something fancier than cheap pizza and processed mini fruit pies.”

“I like pizza and processed mini fruit pies. I rarely eat them, though. Unhealthy choices.”

“Should we get something else?”

Castiel chuckles, shaking his head. “Dean, I wouldn’t have let you buy them if it was an issue. We had pizza with your father and I was fine, remember? I promise the occasional poor eating choice is okay, as long as the food is safe.”

“Well… good. Let’s eat.”

Lunch is… pleasant. The sun is shining, there are children playing far in the distance, the occasional bird chirping, laughter in the air. It’s painfully picturesque and wholesome, but Dean likes it. The pizza is decent, the sodas are refreshing, and Dean’s never met a packaged fruit pie he didn’t like. When lunch is over they lie on their backs, hands interlocked between them, staring up into the branches of the large that’s been providing them with shade.

Dean is content, dozing.

“Don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate?”

Dean opens his eyes and sits up. There’s three men standing at the edge of the blanket, frowning down at them.

“Don’t I think _what_ is a little inappropriate?”

The man in the middle gestures to where Dean and Castiel’s hands are still clasped together.

Dean looks at their hands, and back up to the men. “Are you kidding?”

“Look, we’re here with our wives and _children,_ and my kids don’t need to see something like this.”

“We’re just sitting here.”

“Being intimate.”

Dean wrinkles his nose, lifting his and Castiel’s hands. “ _This_ is intimate? There are couples all over this park holding hands and playing tonsil hockey, dude.”

“ _Traditional couples_ ,” the man says, and his friends nod in agreement.

“That’s a good point,” Dean says, letting go of Castiel’s hand. “Sorry, man. I guess we weren’t thinking.”

The men look surprised and confused. Clearly they were expecting a more involved confrontation. “W-well just don’t let it happen again,” the ringleader says. The men turn and walk back to their families several yards away, and Dean turns to Castiel, who rolls his eyes.

“You want to make out in front of them, don’t you.”

Dean grins. “I like you. You get me.”

Castiel just holds out his arms and Dean descends on him, kissing him hard and licking into his mouth. Castiel moans into the kiss, arms going around Dean’s neck.

Dean turns his head slightly, looking for his new best friends and grinning when he sees them quickly ushering their families away from the area. He rolls onto his back, smiling over at Castiel.

“That could have ended with us being attacked, you know,” Castiel says.

“Pretty sure I could take all three of them,” Dean says, shrugging.

“Are you an adept fighter, then?”

“More adept than them, I’m guessing. And probably you.”

Castiel raises his eyebrows. “Is that so?” He gets to his feet, stepping off the blanket and onto the grass. He smiles serenely at Dean. “Fight me.”

“Not gonna _fight you,_ Cas.”

“Don’t be afraid, I’ll go easy on you.”

“But you’re…” Dean gestures vaguely at Castiel, waiting for him to get it.

“I have a weak immune system, that doesn’t mean I can’t take a hit.”

Dean groans, getting to his feet. “Don’t come crying to me later when you’re just a giant bruise with blue eyes.”

Castiel beams. “Come,” he says, beckoning Dean with his right hand, “show me how good you are.”

Dean sighs, stepping over to Castiel and swatting at his arm.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “You’re being insulting. Are you just bad at fighting?”

Dean snorts at Castiel’s pathetic attempt to goad him. “ _Fine,_ you brat.” Dean throws a punch with his right arm, aiming for Castiel’s right shoulder. Castiel dodges easily. Dean swings with his left as Castiel moves away, and he dodges that as well.

“Okay,” Dean mutters, rolling his shoulders.

Castiel smiles sweetly, bouncing on his feet a little. “Are you sure you could have taken those men?”

Dean glares. “Just getting warmed up, sweetheart.”

Dean tries kicks, punches, feints, even a damn uppercut. What Castiel doesn’t dodge, he blocks. It’s not like Dean _wants_ to see Castiel in pain, but this is getting pathetic. There are people watching now, seeing Dean fail to land even one punch on a man wearing a goddamn Three Wolf Moon t-shirt. Castiel is in _flip flops_ for fuck’s sake.

“Defense is fucking easy,” Dean growls, “if you were actually fighting me, I’d—”

Castiel nods sharply and strikes, darting forward and punching Dean in the shoulder. He hits so hard Dean spins slightly and drops like a stone. Dean scrambles to his feet, glaring at a smirking Castiel. He snarls in frustration, officially _done_ going easy on Castiel. He rushes forward, throwing a hard right hook that Castiel uses both hands to catch. Castiel holds Dean’s fist tight then lets go abruptly, and when Dean stumbles forward Castiel spins away slightly so he can kick Dean’s feet out from under him, and suddenly Dean’s flat on his back, staring up at the cloudless sky and trying to understand what the fuck just happened.

Then Castiel is straddling him, bending forward to crash his lips against Dean’s. Dean groans, tangling his fingers in Castiel’s hair and ignoring the whoops and cheers from the people watching.

 

 

“ _Dean,_ ” Castiel groans in between kisses.

“You win,” Dean mutters. He realizes he’s getting hard in a public park and pulls back, staring into Castiel’s eyes.

Castiel looks around, then back at Dean. “Car?”

“Yeah.”

They quickly gather their things and rush into the parking lot, Dean praying people will ignore their barely concealed erections. Dean starts up the Impala while Castiel is stowing everything, even their garbage, in the trunk. Castiel hurries into the passenger seat, they buckle their seat belts, and Dean takes off, cursing the existence of speed limits all the way home.

 

***

 

Half an hour later they’re in bed again. Castiel is seated at the head of the bed, leaning against the wall, moaning as Dean rides his lap, their eyes locked together.

“You were so fuckin’ hot out there, Cas. Just took me down, no hesitation.”

Castiel’s fingers are digging hard into Dean’s hips. Dean can feel how tense he is, how close he is to coming when they’ve barely just started. Dean has a hand braced against the wall, the other is on himself, jerking his dick in fast, wet strokes.

“Wanted you to fuck me right there,” Dean says. “Right under that tree with all those people staring and cheering, on my hands and knees fuckin’ screaming.”

“Oh _God,_ Dean.”

“You like that idea? Bunch of strangers seeing that I’m all _yours_ , Cas?”

“Yes, _yes,_ oh _fuck,_ Dean, fuck, I’m going to—”

“Yeah, sweetheart, come on, do it.”

Castiel whimpers, hips jerking erratically as he comes. He pulls out, fingers shoving in to rub at Dean’s prostate until Dean’s gasping and groaning through his orgasm.

After, when they’re adequately cleaned, they lie naked on Dean’s bed, sharing satisfied smiles.

“We’re doing that a great deal, aren’t we,” Castiel murmurs.

“What? Fucking? Nah, we’re just storing up for the week ahead.”

Castiel chuckles. “Cute.”

“So… I gotta take you home tomorrow.”

Castiel frowns, nodding. “Yes, I suppose you do.”

“Anything you want to make sure to do or see before then?”

“I’m not sure… are there any big, must-see spots that I’ve missed out on?”

Dean snorts. “No, it’s fuckin’ Lawrence. Unless, uh…”

“Unless…?”

“You wanna go visit Sammy?”

Castiel looks surprised, but not put off. “Yes. Let’s visit Sam.”

 

***

 

There’s still plenty of daylight left when they get to Forest Lawn, and Dean locates Sam’s grave quickly.

It’s amazing how fast the past month has gone. It feels like Dean was just here, standing in this grass, saying his goodbyes, embarking on a journey that’s brought him so much more than he could have imagined.

“Heya, Sammy. I’m back from my trip. Met a lot of really cool people… and one total asshole if I’m being honest. Met all the people walking around with your organs, ate a lot of good food… missed you every day. Brought Ruby back to Lawrence, by the way. She belongs in this town… with family. And Jo. Thanks for telling me _that_ by the way. You were just full of secrets, weren’t you? Pirating media, going to ren faires, boinking your high school girlfriend with Ruby… I get you not telling me, though. Shit like that, you figure there’ll be time to mention it down the road.”

Dean taps Sam’s headstone with his boot. “So don’t you worry that I’m pissed or anything.” Dean looks over at Castiel, who’s been standing there silently, letting Dean talk. “So this here’s Castiel. You did him a real solid by signing up to be an organ donor, Sammy. Your heart saved his life, and meeting him… I’ve never been this in love.”

Dean can hear Castiel suck in a small, surprised breath. Yeah, Dean might have downplayed his feelings a bit when he told Castiel he was “kinda falling in love.”

“I think you’d like him a lot. He likes learning about nature and shit, he likes _rocks,_ makes his own jam, loves books just like you… and he knocked me on my ass in an impromptu sparring match over at Centennial Park today. I wish you could really meet him, but this’ll have to do. He’s cool, though, Sammy. He’s got both our hearts, and I think he’ll do what he can to take care of them.”

Dean steps to the side, in case Castiel wants to say something. He aches when he realizes Castiel is crying. Castiel drops to his knees, tears falling into the grass. Dean crouches next to him, rubbing gentle circles into his back.

“Thank you,” Castiel sobs, fingers clenched in the grass. “Thank you, Sam.”

  


 

***

 

They stay a long time, long enough that the sun is going to set pretty soon. They’re curled up together on the grass over Sam’s grave, not talking. It’s so quiet Dean is starting to think Castiel might be asleep.

Castiel’s alarm goes off, and Castiel reacts evenly, reaching in his pocket to shut it off. Not asleep, then.

“There’s uh… lukewarm Sprite in the trunk of my car if you want. Or we could go get dinner.”

“I could eat.”

Dean and Castiel stand, both wincing and stretching as they do.

“Cool. Let’s go to Encore Cafe. They have dishes that come in little bamboo pots!” Dean says cheerfully.

Castiel smiles. “That sounds good. Something warm and beefy would hit the spot right now.”

“Warm and beefy, hm?”

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel hisses, gesturing at Sam’s headstone.

Dean hangs his head. Damn, that’s messed up. “I’m sick. Sorry, Sammy.” He’s not worried though. He knows if Sam’s around somewhere, he’s probably laughing.

Castiel just shakes his head and starts walking toward the parking lot.

 

***

 

After a handful of pills and two hearty helpings of beef teriyaki at Encore Cafe, Dean and Castiel head back to Dean’s apartment. Dean’s tempted to see how his father is doing, but that can be something to deal with after Dean’s taken Castiel home.

Instead they spend the night cuddled together on Dean’s bed, watching pirated movies on Sam’s laptop until they both fall asleep.


	33. Chapter 33

Dean wakes on Sunday, gut feeling heavy with dread. It’s raining for the first time in weeks, which seems a bit fitting, considering how bummed Dean feels. He turns his head to see Castiel already awake next to him, eyes misty.

“Hey,” Dean says, offering a pitiful smile.

“Good morning, Dean.” Castiel’s voice is so thin and sad.

Dean takes one of Castiel’s hands, kissing the knuckles gently. “Nothing’s ending today, okay? I’m going to see you again on Friday night.”

“I know, it’s just… having this… _you_ all day, every day, then going back to being without? Sounds pretty unappealing.”

“Yeah, it really does.”

“At least you’ll have your new roommate to keep you company,” Castiel says with a smile.

“My new… oh. Right.” Dean keeps forgetting he has a roommate now. Well, at least he won’t be alone. “And you have Gabriel right next door. And all those rocks.”

“And all those orgasms I stored up on.”

“Well, we could add another.”

Castiel smirks, trailing a hand down Dean’s side. Naturally, this is when Castiel’s alarm goes off.

“Pill time!” he says cheerfully.

Dean glares. “Pill time.”

  
  


***

  
  


Castiel cooks bacon, diced potatoes, and egg white frittatas for breakfast, and then the two of them share a long, hot shower. It’s intimate, trading kisses, washing each other’s hair, Dean pressing Castiel against the shower wall while they slowly stroke each other to completion. Despite Dean’s earlier pep talk, there’s still a hefty air of sadness. Dean’s been living in this lovely bubble of sex and talking and feeling free with his emotions… and tonight he’ll be sleeping alone, tomorrow he and Castiel will be back to work, back to regular life.

The plan is to get a fairly early start; Des Moines is less than four hours away, but Dean has to make the trip two ways, and that’s not accounting for traffic issues and tearful goodbyes.

They dawdle, though. They linger on Dean’s bed, cuddling and kissing, and Castiel packs slowly while Dean spends over ten minutes “cleaning” his trunk when really it just has stale pizza in it. Then they decide they should have lunch, even though breakfast wasn’t all that long ago, and Castiel makes pasta, including a sauce from scratch. They eat slowly, and it would be amusing if it wasn’t so damn pathetic.

At exactly one o’clock Castiel sighs, setting his fork down on his empty plate. “We’re being ridiculous.”

Dean pokes at a lone noodle with his fork. “Yeah, I know.”

“We need to just… get this over with.”

Dean gorans. “You’re right, this is stupid. Come on, let’s go.”

  
  


***

  
  


For the first hour, neither of them say a damn thing, but Dean feels like turning on the radio would be too much of a statement, so they ride in a painful silence.

“Jesus, Cas. I feel like you’re breaking up with me or some shit. _Say_ something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just feeling on the morose side, is all.”

“This is a long drive, Cas.”

“I could suck you off?”

Dean narrows his eyes. “ _Or,_ you could talk to me.”

“About sucking your cock?”

“Come on, dude. I’m _driving_ in the _rain._ Just tell me what’s on your mind. And don’t say my dick.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Castiel sighs. “I miss you.”

“Oh.”

“I’m… my mind just got an early start on the missing you part of things. I told you it was stupid.”

“Yeah, well… I miss you too. In advance. It feels shitty.”

“It does.”

“Okay, anything else on your mind?”

“I’m so happy I met you, so happy I have this heart, but there are moments when I feel like I’m being happy that you lost your brother,” Castiel says very, very quietly.

Woah. Things got even heavier, and Dean really wasn’t expecting that. Castiel fidgets beside him, and since there doesn’t seem to be a rest stop coming up soon, Dean pulls off at the next exit and eventually into the parking lot of an abandoned convenience store. He kills the engine, and the rain on the roof of the Impala is the only sound he can hear.

“Baby…” Dean takes Castiel’s hands, looking up into those sad, beautiful eyes. “You can’t think like that. _We_ can’t think like that. I’ll never be glad Sam is dead, but… I _can_ be glad that long before he died, he made the decision to be an organ donor, and that decision saved you and the others… and brought me to you. So… don’t think like that.” Dean kisses Castiel’s hands. “Or at least try not to. I know it’s ugly baggage, Cas, but I think it’s worth trying to overcome.”

“It _is._ ”

“Okay, so… when you’re having thoughts like that… talk to me.”

“Will you do the same?”

“I’ll give it my damndest.”

“Well… I too will give it… my damndest.”

  
  


***

  
  


The ride is easier after that. They talk about Castiel’s bookstore, Dean’s plans to open a World of Warcraft account, stories about Jimmy and Castiel switching places in school and never getting caught, Dean’s sparse memories of his mother.

All too soon they’re in the parking lot for Castiel’s building in Des Moines, and the mood drops again. It’s not raining here, but it’s still grey and gloomy out.

“Walk me home?” Castiel says timidly.

“Of course,” Dean says, shutting off the car.

Castiel fishes his belongings out of the trunk, and the two head into Castiel’s building. They’re almost to Castiel’s door when Gabriel pops out of his apartment, grinning. “Well _look_ who’s still ali—” Gabriel looks between the two of them, grin disappearing. “I’m interrupting something. I’m uh… just gonna…” Gabriel disappears back into his apartment and Castiel rolls his eyes, unlocking his own door.

“Home sweet home?” Dean says, following Castiel inside.

“I suppose so.”

Dean looks around. “Maybe you need a pet.”

Castiel pouts. “Someday. I’d love to get a cat down the road. Litter boxes are a mess of bacteria, though, so I’d have to clean it with bleach often, or maybe have someone else tend to it.”

“Oh…”

Castiel sets his bag down.

“Well,” Dean says, “just so you know, I’m allergic to cats, but it’s nothing a good nasal spray can’t help with. Had an old girlfriend with a cat and when I took medication for my allergies the hair didn’t bother me at all. Uh… I mean I’m just putting that out there.”

Castiel smiles brightly. “That’s good information to have, Dean.”

Dean groans. “Shut up.”

“You’re adorable.”

Dean glances at Castiel’s clock. A quarter ‘til five. Plenty of time for Dean to drive home, have dinner, and go to sleep. “So, um… not really sure how to go about saying goodbye. I’ll um… I have your number.”

Castiel nods. “Yes. And you’ll still come on Friday, right?”

Dean grins. “I’ll leave right after work, probably get here around nine.”

Castiel stands in front of Dean, playing with the hem of his leather jacket. “Will you be expecting dinner on the table?”

“And a backrub. And a hot bath to get that engine oil smell off me. And a champagne glass filled with sparkling cider.”

“Maybe I should write all this down…”

Dean brings their lips together, smiling into the kiss when Castiel’s arms wrap around him. It takes less than a minute for the kiss to turn heated, and then Castiel is pulling back, blue eyes desperate and full of need.

“Stay the night. We can go to bed early. You can still be to work on time.”

Dean nods frantically, already pulling his jacket off. Just a few more hours and Dean will get back to his regularly scheduled life.

  
  


*******

  
  


Dean does manage to get to work on time, though after a night spent in Castiel’s bed _not_ doing much sleeping, he’s pretty dead on his feet. By the time he gets home he’s so tired he doesn’t even tease Ruby when he comes through the front door and finds her _knitting_ on the couch.

On Tuesday, Dean’s a little more himself, but he misses Castiel. They text, though. Stupid, cute little messages about their workday, and Dean sends pictures of the undercarriage of a Dodge Dart for no reason, explaining what things are when Castiel asks.

On Wednesday, Dean has phone sex for the first time since he was maybe twenty, and he’s so loud Ruby can’t look him in the eye the next morning.

On Thursday, Castiel calls to complain about Gabriel having a noisy party next door, and Dean tells him not to eat any homemade brownies.

On Friday, Dean is excited and chatty, even with people at work he hasn’t had a single conversation with since he started working there. Everyone seems bewildered, some annoyed, and Dean doesn’t really give a fuck because he has a weekend with his boyfriend waiting for him.

He spends the drive to Des Moines singing along to Metallica, and when he arrives at his destination he’s delighted to see that Castiel actually has dinner waiting. Steak and potatoes, along with a champagne glass filled with sparkling apple cider. After, Castiel ushers Dean into a hot bubble bath and treats him to a soothing back rub. It’s fucking amazing.

“I didn’t think you’d actually…”

“I couldn’t help myself.” Castiel sounds a wee bit smug, in Dean’s opinion.

“I feel so _pampered._ ”

“Well, don’t get used to it. Now that I’ve thoroughly impressed you, I plan to rest on my laurels.”

Dean sighs happily, water gently sloshing about as he leans back against Castiel. “Good to know.”


	34. Chapter 34

They keep that pattern for months. Dean’s weekdays are filled with car repairs, hanging out with Ruby, and having the occasional awkward conversation with his father. Ruby gets a job as a waitress at some Italian place on the other side of town, and comes home most nights swearing she needs to find a nicer job. She doesn’t come home every night, though. There are plenty of nights when Dean gets a “staying at Jo’s” text from her, and Dean spends those nights playing World of Warcraft with Kevin or having phone sex with Castiel.

Dean’s weekends are spent in Des Moines, cuddling in Castiel’s bed, hanging out in the bookstore on Saturdays and reading sci-fi novels while Castiel reads his god awful romances between customers. A few Moondoor events come and go, but Dean has yet to go back to Colorado Springs, not quite willing to cut into his time with Castiel just yet.

He officially meets Castiel’s siblings, and they’re good people, though Gabriel treats Dean like he’s another little brother in need of pestering, which is not fun for anyone other than Gabriel.

Things are pretty good. Dean wishes he could end more nights asleep in Castiel’s arms, but he’s not unhappy.

In September, Castiel catches a cold. It takes him down pretty hard, and Dean is so freaked out that he takes over a week off from work so he can lurk in Castiel’s apartment, fretting and convincing himself that Castiel is going to develop pneumonia at any moment. Castiel’s siblings all think it’s fucking precious. Castiel says he’s just happy to have more of Dean.

Dean has discovered parts of himself he didn’t know existed. He’s called Castiel for the sole purpose of saying “I love you”. He’s shown up at Castiel’s apartment bearing flowers. He’s clocked many, many hours of lying in bed just watching Castiel sleep. All kinds of romantic, cliche, sappy shit that Dean’s spent his whole life thinking he had no interest in. If Sam could see him like this… in love, committed… spending over an hour just thinking about Castiel’s eyes one night… he’d tease Dean mercilessly. But Dean knows he’d also be really, really happy for his big brother.

  


***

  


“Fuck, it’s fucking freezing.”

Dean stands in the frost-coated grass over Sam’s grave, peering down at the familiar inscription. Sometimes people give Dean dirty looks for standing on top of Sam’s grave the way he does, but fuck them. Sam is Dean’s brother, not theirs. They weren’t there when Dean would take Sam to see their mother’s grave when they were younger. They weren’t there when a young Sam would lie in the grass right above where Mary was buried, telling Dean he wanted to be as close as he could to his mom. So… that old woman glaring at Dean from two rows away can stuff it.

“So, I’m leaving. Just thought I’d come right out with it.”

Dean shivers, the icy January cold seeping through his black Hello Kitty hoodie easily.

“I just think my life is a little more… portable than Cas’. We want to live together. I want a life with him. And right now I think that means a life away from Lawrence. I mean Cas has that job through his brother… insurance… and having a close support system is important. Especially in these early years after a transplant, you know? Okay maybe you don’t know.”

Dean sighs, watching his breath come out in a weak little cloud.

“He offered to move here, but… that would’ve… maybe down the road. Like I said, my life is more portable. We got a house in Des Moines… well I mean we didn’t _get_ a house. It’s a rental. Ruby’s staying in my apartment, so… Dad and Ruby are gonna stay neighbors.” Dean chuckles at that. “I was pretty sad about leaving your stars behind, and then Cas… so smart, he reminded me that I have a fuck ton of money in my bank account, so I paid Frank… you remember Frank? My landlord? You got into an argument about the moon landing with him once…. anyway I paid him five grand plus labor… and he brought in some guys, and they just… _cut_ that part of the ceiling off. It’s a huge chunk of drywall. Only about an inch thick, otherwise… I dunno. S’ only a two story building. Anyway it’s already been filled in. So, we almost couldn’t get the chunk of ceiling out of there without cutting it down, but we managed. There’s a great big hole in it from where the overhead light was, but I can fill that in myself.”

Dean looks around. The old woman is still shooting him dirty looks.

“Haven’t really decided what to do with it… so there’s just a big hunk of drywall leaning against the wall in our new bedroom. Ruby said she thought I was being fucking ridiculous cutting out the damn _ceiling_ , but… I saw her eyes tear up when they carried it out, so I know she’s just full of shit. She and Jo are doing good, by the way. They’re like… out to everyone now, but I don’t think the others know the three of you were a thing. Still haven’t told them about where Cas got his heart, either. I’ll get around to it, I swear. But for now it’s just between me and Cas. And Ash. And one of Cas’ brothers. And Ruby. And Ruby probably told Jo by now.” Dean groans. “Jesus, and Jo probably told her mom, and Ellen probably told Bobby… and Bobby’s finally speaking to Dad again, so _he_ probably knows. Fuck I should look into this later.”

There’s snow falling now, and the old woman is nowhere to be seen.

“I should go. Car’s all packed up, Cas is waiting… today’s the official move in day. We’re going to hit up a Pier 1 or some shit in Des Moines. I left all my furniture with Ruby, and most of Cas’ shit came with his apartment so we can’t take it, and the stuff he had in storage is all musty and gross, so, new stuff. I like it though, I like that we’ll be picking it all out together. I’m… I’m happy, Sam. I’m learning to be happy in this new world that doesn’t have you in it. I’m doing okay. I’ll be back to Lawrence plenty, so I’ll still come by to visit.”

Dean crouches down, petting Sam’s headstone with freezing fingertips.

“You’re never far from my thoughts, Sammy. I’m always gonna love you, always gonna miss you.”

It’s below freezing out, and the tears in Dean’s eyes sting. He rushes back to the Impala, where the engine is running. Castiel is inside, basking in the warmth of the heater and listening to one of Dean’s AC/DC tapes.

“I think there’s something wrong with your heater,” Castiel says, turning the volume down to zero as Dean slides into the car.

“Feels warm to me.” Dean wraps his cold body around Castiel’s, grinning when Castiel yelps.

“There’s a rattle every so often.”

Dean chuckles. “Legos.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“I shoved Legos in the vents when I was a kid.”

“Ahh,” Castiel murmurs, and Dean can hear the smile in it. “You really left your mark on this car, then. I’ve noticed the little army man stuck in the ashtray on one of the back doors.”

Dean nuzzles into Castiel’s warmth, sighing as he starts to thaw. “That one was Sammy.”

“Anything else?”

“We carved our initials into the package tray behind the back seat. Don’t tell my dad.”

“I’ll be sure to leave that out of our weekly phone call.”

Dean sits up, staring. “Your _what_?” At Castiel’s unimpressed expression Dean sighs, rubbing his face with his palm. “The cold has damaged the part of my brain that can detect sarcasm, okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Don’t be an ass, or I won’t take you to the store to furnish our love nest.”

“Oh God, please don’t call it that.”

Dean snickers, pulling the Impala away from the cemetery as Castiel starts talking about beds, interrupting Castiel to ask “do they make race car beds in adult sizes?”

“No.”

“No they don’t make them?”

“No, we’re not getting one.”

“I’m the one with all the money, shouldn’t this be my choice?”

“No, that’s not how this is going to work.”

“Come on, I’ll let you drive it!”

“I am _not_ sleeping in a race car bed, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, glancing at Castiel and grinning, “we’ll see about that.”

  


**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> You made it to the end! Thank you so much for reading, I'm genuinely grateful for every hit, every kudos, every comment. 
> 
> Please show some love to my artist, kelisab. Last year I posted the link to my artist's LJ masterpost and NO ONE left her a comment. It was a real bummer. Her main post for this DCBB can be found [*~here~*](http://kelisab.tumblr.com/post/132009321509/art-master-post-for-the-2015-deancas-big-bang-it).
> 
> Fun fact: Aside from places that had a Supernatural character working in them, all of the places Dean went were real. I haven't been to any of them, but Zombie Burger and Fong's Pizza both sound amazing, am I right?


End file.
